



























WHITE-JACKET; 


/ \ 

OR 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 



/ / . 

y 

BY HERMAN MELVILLE, 

AUTHOR OF "TYPEE," “ OMOO,” “MARDI,” AND “ REDBURN.” 


1 

* 



N E W Y O R K : 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY. 


1 8 5 5 . 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand 
eight hundred and fifty, by 
Herman Melville, 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Southern District 

of New York. 




NOTE. 


In the year 1843 I shipped as “ ordinary seaman” 
on board of a United States frigate, then lying in a 
harbor of the Pacific Ocean. After remaining in this 
frigate for more than a year, I was discharged from 
the service upon the vessel’s arrival home. My man- 
of-war experiences and observations are incorporated 
in the present volume. 

New York, March , 1850 . 


“ Conceive him now in a man-of-war ; with his letters of 
mart, well armed, victualed, and appointed, and see how he 
acquits himself.” — Fuller’s 11 Good Sea-Captain 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter Page 

I. The Jacket 9 

• 

II. Homeward Bound 12 

III. A Glance at the principal Divisions into which a Man-of- 

war’s Crew is divided 14 

IV. Jack Chase 20 

V. Jack Chase on a Spanish Quarter-deck 25 

VI. The Quarter-deck Officers, Warrant Officers, and Berth- 
deck Underlings of a Man-of-war ; where they Live 
in the Ship ; how they .Live ; their Social Standing 
on Shipboard and what sort of Gentlemen they are 28 

VII. Breakfast, Dinner, and Supper 38 

VIII. Selvagee contrasted with Mad Jack 41 

IX. Of the Pockets that were in the Jacket 46 

X. From Pockets to Pickpockets 50 

XI The Pursuit of Poetry under Difficulties 52 

XII. The Good or Bad Temper of Man-of-war’s-men in a 
great Degree attributable to their Particular Stations 
and Duties aboard Ship 57 

XIII. A Man-of-war Hermit in a Mob 64 

XIV. A Drought in a Man-of-war 67 

XV. A Salt-Junk Club in a Man-of-war, with a Notice to Quit 71 

XVI. General Training in a Man-of-war 80 

XVII. Away ! Second, Third, and Fourth Cutters, away ! 88 

XVIII. A Man-of-war Full as a Nut 92 

XIX. The Jacket aloft 94 

XX. How they Sleep in a Man-of-war 98 

XXI. One Reason why Man-of-war’s-men are generally Short- 

lived 101 

XXII. W ash-day, and House-cleaning in a Man-of-war 105 

XXIII. Theatricals in a Man-of-war 110 

XXIV. Introductory to Cape Horn 118 

XXV. The Dog-days off Cape Horn 122 

XXVI. The Pitch of the Cape 127 

XXVII. Some Thoughts growing out of Mad Jack’s Counter- 
manding his Superior’s Order 134 


vj CONTENTS. 


Chapter Page 

XXVIII. Edging Away 140 

XXIX. The Night-watches 144 

XXX. A Peep through a Port-hole at the Subterranean Parts 

of a Man-of-war 148 

XXXI. The Gunner under Hatches 152 

XXXII. A Dish ofDunderfunk 157 

XXXIII. A Flogging 160 

XXXIV. Some of the Evil Effects of Flogging 166 

XXXV. Flogging not Lawful 171 

XXXVI. Flogging not Necessary 176 

XXXVII. Some superior old “ London Dock” from the Wine-cool- 
ers of N eptune 182 

XXXVIII. The Chaplain and Chapel in a Man-of-war 185 

XXXIX. The Frigate in. Harbor — The Boats — Grand State Re- 
ception of the Commodore _ . .... 190 

XL. Some of the Ceremonies in a hlan-of-war unnecessary 

and injurious 

XLI. A Man-of-war Library jgg 

XLII. Killing Time in a Man-of-war in Harbor 202 

XLIII. Smuggling in a Man-of-war 209 

XLIV. A Knave in Office in a Man-of-war 216 

XLV. Publishing Poetry in a Man-of-war 227 

XLVI. The Commodore on the Poop, and one of “ the People” 

under the Hands of the Surgeon 229 

XL VII. An Auction in a Man-of-war 234 

XLVIII. Purser, Purser’s Steward, and Postmaster in a Man-of- 

war 241 

XLIX. Rumors of a War, and how they were received by the 

Population of the Neversink 245 

L. The Bay of all Beauties 248 

LI. One of “ the People” has an Audience with the Com- 
modore and the Captain on the Quarter-deck 251 

LII. Something concerning Midshipmen 254 

LIII. Sea-faring Persons peculiarly subject to being under the 
Weather — The Effects of this upon a Man-of-war 

Captain 261 

LIV. “The People” are given “Liberty” 265 

LV. Midshipmen entering the Navy early 271 

LVI. A Shore Emperor on board a Man-of-war. 274 

LVII. The Emperor Reviews the People at Quarters 280 

kVIII. A Quarter-deck Officer before the Mast 283 


CONTEN T S. 


vii 


Chapter Page 

LIX. A Man-of-war Button divides two Brothers 285 

LX. A Man-of-war’s-man Shot at 289 

LXI. The Surgeon of the Fleet 291 

LXII. A Consultation of Man-of-war Surgeons . 296 

LXIII. The Operation 300 

LXIV. Man-of-war Trophies 313 

LXV. A Man-of-war Race 316 

LX VI. Fun in a Man-of-war 322 

LXVII. White-Jacket arraigned at the Mast 326 

LXVIII. A Man-of-war Fountain, and other Things 332 

LXIX. Prayers at the Guns 336 

LXX. Monthly Muster round the Capstan 341 

LXXI. The Genealogy of the Articles of War 346 

LXXII. “ Herein are the good Ordinances of the Sea, which 
wise Men, who voyaged round the World, gave to 
our Ancestors, and which constitute the Books of 

the Science of good Customs” 349 

LXXIIII. Night and Day Gambling in -a Man-of-war 356 

LXXIV. The Main-top at Night 361 

LXXV. “ Sink, Burn, and Destroy” 370 

LX XVI. The Chains 375 

LXX VII. The Hospital in a Man-of-war 379 

LXXVIII. Dismal Times in the Mess 387 

LXXIX. How M an-of- war’s-men Die at Sea 390 

LX XX. The Last Stitch 394 

LXXXI. How they Buiy a Man-of-war’s-man at Sea 398 

LX XXII. What remains of a Man-of-war’s-man after his Burial 

at Sea 399 

LXXXIII. A Man-of-war College 401 

LXXXIV. Man-of-war Barbel's 407 

LXXXV. The great Massacre of the Beards 413 

LXXXVI. The Rebels brought to the Mast 422 

LXXXVII. Old Ushant at the Gangway 424 

LXXXVIII. Flogging through the Fleet 430 

LXXXIX. The Social State in a Man-of-war 434 

XC. The Manning of Navies 438 

XCI. Smoking-club in a Man-of-war, with Scenes on the 

Gun-deck drawing near Home 449 

XCII. The last of the Jacket 455 

XCIII. Cable and Anchor all clear 460 



WHITE-JACKET. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE JACKET. 

It was not a very white jacket, hut white enough, in all 
conscience, as the sequel will show. 

The way I came by it was this. 

When our frigate lay in Callao, on the coast of Peru — her 
last harbor in the Pacific — I found myself without a grego , 
or sailor’s surtout ; and as, toward the end of a three years’ 
cruise, no pea-jackets could be had from the purser’s steward ; 
and being bound for Cape Horn, some sort of a substitute was 
indispensable ; I employed myself, for several days, in manu- 
facturing an outlandish garment of my own devising, to shel- 
ter me from the boisterous weather we were so soon to en- 
counter. 

It was nothing more than a white duck frock, or rather 
shirt ; which, laying on deck, I folded double at the bosom, 
and by then making a continuation of the slit there, opened 
it lengthwise — much as you would cut a leaf in the last new 
novel. The gash being made, a metamorphosis took place, 
transcending any related by Ovid. For, presto! the shirty 
was a coat ! — a strange-looking coat, to be sure ; of a Quaker- 
ish amplitude about the skirts ; with an infirm, tumble-down 
collar ; and a clumsy fullness about the wristbands ; and 
white, yea, white as a shroud. And my shroud it afterward 
came very near proving, as he who reads further will find. 

But, bless me, my friend, what sort of a summer jacket is 
c # 


10 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


this, in which to weather Cape Horn ? A very tasty, and 
beautiful white linen garment it may have seemed ; but then, 
people almost universally sport their linen next to their skin. 

Very true ; and that thought very early occurred to me ; 
for no idea had I of scudding round Cape Horn in my shirt ; 
for that would have been almost scudding under bare poles, 
indeed. 

So, with many odds and ends of patches — old socks, old 
trowser-legs, and the like — I bedarned and bequilted the in- 
side of my jacket, till it became, all over, stiff and padded, as 
King James’s cotton-stuffed and dagger-proof doublet ; and 
no buckram or steel hauberk stood up more stoutly. 

So far, very good; but pray, tell me, White- Jacket, how 
do you propose keeping out the rain and the wet in this quilt- 
ed grego of yours ? You don’t call this wad of old patches a 
Mackintosh, do you? — You don’t pretend to^ay that worst- 
ed is water-proof? 

No, my dear friend ; and that was the deuce of it. Wa 
ter-proof it was not, no more than a sponge. Indeed, with 
such recklessness had I bequilted my jacket, that in a rain- 
storm I became a universal absorber ; swabbing bone-dry the 
very bulwarks I leaned against. Of a damp day, my heart- 
less shipmates even used to stand up against me, so powerful 
was the capillary attraction between this luckless jacket of 
mine and all drops of moisture. I dripped like a turkey a’ 
roasting ; and long after the rain storms were over, and the 
sun showed his face, I still stalked a Scotch mist ; and when 
it was fair weather with others, alas ! it was foul weather 
with me. 

Me ? Ah me ! Soaked and heavy, what a burden was 
that jacket to carry about, especially when I was sent up 
aloft ; dragging myself up, step by step, as if I were weighing 
the anchor. Small time then, to strip, and wring it out in a 
rain, when no hanging back or delay was permitted. No, 
no ; up you go : fat or lean : Lambert or Edson : never mind 
how much avoirdupoise you might weigh. And thus, in my 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


11 


own proper person, did many showers of rain reascend toward 
the skies, in accordance with the natural laws. 

But here be it known, that I had been terribly disappoint- 
ed in carrying out my original plan concerning this jacket. 
It had been my intention to make it thoroughly impervious, 
by giving it a coating of paint. But bitter fate ever over- 
takes us unfortunates. So much paint had been stolen by the 
sailors, in daubing their overhaul trowsers and tarpaulins, that 
by the time I — an honest man — had completed my quiltings, 
the paint-pots were banned, and put under strict lock and key. 

Said old Brush, the captain of the paint-room — “ Look ye, 
White- Jacket,” said he, “ye can’t have any paint.” 

Such, then, was my jacket : a well-patched, padded, and 
porous one ; and in a dark night, gleaming white, as the 
White Lady of Avenel ! 


CHAPTER II. 


HOMEWARD-BOUND. 

** All hands up anchor ! Man the capstan !” 

“ High die ! my lads, we’re homeward hound !” 

Homeward hound ! — harmonious sound ! Were you ever 
homeward hound ? — No ? — Quick ] take the wings of the 
morning, or the sails of a ship, and fly to the uttermost parts 
of the earth. There, tarry a year or two ; and then let the 
gruffest of Boatswains, his lungs all goose-skin, shout forth 
those magical words, and you’ll swear “ the harp of Orpheus 
were not more enchanting.” 

All was ready ; boats hoisted in, stun’ sail gear rove, mes- 
senger passed, capstan-bars in their places, accommodation- 
ladder below ; and in glorious spirits, we sat down to dinner. 
In the ward-room, the lieutenants were passing round their 
oldest Port, and pledging their friends ; in the steerage, the 
middies were busy raising loans to liquidate the demands of 
their laundress, or else — in the navy phrase — preparing to pay 
their creditors with a flying fore-topsail. On the poop, the 
captain was looking to windward ; and in his grand, inacces- 
sible cabin, the high and mighty commodore sat silent and 
stately, as the statue of Jupiter in Dodona. 

We were all arrayed in our best, and our bravest ; like 
'strips of blue sky, lay the pure blue collars of our frocks upon 
our shoulders ; and our pumps were so springy and playful, 
that we danced up and down as we dined. 

It was on the gun-deck that our dinners were spread ; all 
along between the guns ; and there, as we cross-legged sat, 
you would have thought a hundred farm-yards and meadows 
were nigh. Such a cackling of ducks, chickens, and ganders ; 
such a lowing of oxen, and bleating of lambkins, penned up 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


13 


here and there along the deck, to provide sea repasts for 
the officers. More rural than naval were the sounds ; con- 
^ tinually reminding each mother’s son of the old paternal 
homestead in the green old clime ; the old arching elms ; the 
hill where we gambolled ; and down by the barley banks of 
>■* the stream where we bathed. 
f “ All hands up anchor !” 

When that order was given, how we sprang to the bars, 
and heaved round that capstan ; every man a Goliath, every 
tendon a hawser ! — round and round — round, round it spun 
like a sphere, keeping time with our feet to the time of the 
fifer, till the cable was straight up and down, and the ship 
with her nose in the water. 

“ Heave and pall ! unship your bars, and make sail !” 

It was done : — bar-men, nipper-men, tierers, veerers, idlers 
and all, scrambled up the ladder to the braces and halyards ; 
while like monkeys in Palm-trees, the sail-loosers ran out on 
those broad boughs, our yards ; and down fell the sails like 
white clouds from the ether — top-sails, top-gallants, and roy- 
als ; and away we ran with the halyards, till every sheet was 
distended. 

“ Once more to the bars !” 

“ Heave, my hearties, heave hard !” 

With a jerk and a yerk, we broke ground ; and up to our 
bows came several thousand pounds of old iron, in the shape 
of our ponderous anchor. 

Where was White- Jacket then ? 

White- Jacket was where he belonged. It was White- 
Jacket that loosed that main-royal, so far up aloft there, it 
looks like a white albatross’ wing. It was White- Jacket 
that was taken for an albatross himself, as he flew out on the 
giddy yard-arm ! 


CHAPTER III. 


A GLANCE AT THE PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS, INTO WHICH A MAN- 
OF-WAR’ S CREW IS DIVIDED. 

Having just designated the place where White- Jacket be- 
longed, it must needs he related how White- Jacket came to 
belong there. 

Every one knows that in merchantmen the seamen are di- 
vided into watches — starboard and larboard — taking their 
turn at the ship’s duty by night. This plan is followed in 
all men-of-war. But in all ijien-of-war, besides this division, 
there are others, rendered indispensable from the great number 
of men, and the necessity of precision and discipline. Not 
only are particular bands assigned to the three tops, but in 
getting under weigh, or any other proceeding requiring all 
hands, particular men of these bands are assigned to each 
yard of the tops. Thus, when the order is given to loose the 
main-royal, White- Jacket flies to obey it ; and no one but 
him. 

And not only are particular bands stationed on the three 
decks of the ship at such times, but particular men of those 
bands are also assigned to particular duties. Also, in tacking 
ship, reefing top-sails, or “ coming to,” every man of a frig- 
ate’s five-hundred-strong, knows his own special place, and 
is infallibly found there. He sees nothing else, attends to 
nothing else, and will stay there till grim death or an epau- 
lette orders him away. Yet there are times when, through 
the negligence of the officers, some exceptions are found to 
this rule. A rather serious circumstance growing out of such 
a case will be related in some future chapter. 

Were it not for these regulations a man-of-war’s crew would 
be nothing but a mob, more ungovernable stripping the can 

4 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


15 


vass in a gale than Lord George Gordon’s tearing down the 
lofty house of Lord Mansfield. 

But this is not all. Besides White- Jacket’s office as looser 
of the main-royal, when all hands were called to make sail ; 
and besides his special offices, in tacking ship, coming to an- 
chor, &c. ; he permanently belonged to the Starboard Watch, 
one of the two primary, grand divisions of the ship’s company. 
And in this watch he was a main-top-man ; that is, was sta- 
tioned in the main-top, with a number of other seamen, al- 
ways in readiness to execute any orders pertaining to the main- 
mast, from above the main-yard. For, including the main- 
yard, and below it to the deck, the main-mast belongs to an- 
other detachment. 

Now the fore, main, and mizen-top-men of each watch — 
Starboard and Larboard — are at sea respectively subdivided 
into Quarter Watches ; which regularly relieve each other in 
the tops to which they may belong ; while, collectively, they 
relieve the whole Larboard Watch of top-men. 

Besides these topmen, who are always made up of active 
sailors, there are Sheet- Anchor-men — old veterans all — whose 
place is on the forecastle ; the fore-yard, anchors, and all the 
sails on the bowsprit being under their care. 

They are an old weather-beaten set, culled from the most 
experienced seamen on hoard. These are the fellows that 
sing you “ The Bay of Biscay Oh!” and “ Here a sheer hulk 
lies poor Tom Bowling!” “ Cease , rude Boreas , blustering 
railer !” who, when ashore, at an eating-house, call for a bowl 
of tar and a biscuit. These are the fellows, who spin in- 
terminable yarns about Decatur, Hull, and Bainbridge ; and 
carry about their persons bits of “ Old Ironsides,” as Catho- 
lics do the wood of the true cross. These are the fellows, that 
some officers never pretend to damn, however much they may 
anathematize others. These are the fellows, that it does your 
soul good to look at ; — hearty old members of the Old Guard ; 
grim sea grenadiers, who, in tempest time, have lost many a 
tarpaulin overboard. These are the fellows, whose society 


16 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


some of the youngster midshipmen much affect ; from whom 
they learn their best seamanship ; and to whom they look up 
as veterans ; if so be, that they have any reverence in their 
souls, which is not the case with all midshipmen. 

Then, there is the After-guard, stationed on the Quarter- 
deck ; who, under the Quarter-Masters and Quarter-Gunners, 
attend to the main-sail and spanker, and help haul the main- 
brace, and other ropes in the stern of the vessel. 

The duties assigned to the After- Guard’ s-Men being com- 
paratively light and easy, and but little seamanship being 
expected from them, they are composed chiefly of lands- 
men ; the least robust, least hardy, and least sailor-like of the 
crew ; and being stationed on the Quarter-deck, they are gen- 
erally selected with some eye to their personal appearance. 
Hence, they are mostly slender young fellows, of a genteel 
figure and gentlemanly address ; not weighing much on a 
rope, but weighing considerably in the estimation of all for- 
eign ladies who may chance to visit the ship. They lounge 
away the most part of their time, in reading novels and ro- 
mances ; talking over their lover affairs ashore ; and compar- 
ing notes concerning the melancholy and sentimental career 
which drove them — poor young gentlemen — into the hard- 
hearted navy. Indeed, many of them show tokens of having 
moved in very respectable society. They always maintain a 
tidy exterior ; and express an abhorrence of the tar-bucket, 
into which they are seldom or never called to dip their digits. 
And pluming themselves upon the cut of their trowsers, and 
the glossiness of their tarpaulins, from the rest of the ship’s 
company, they acquire the name of “sea-dandies” and “silk* 
sock-gentry .” 

Then, there are the Waisters, always stationed on the gun- 
deck. These haul aft the fore and main-sheets, besides being 
subject to ignoble duties ; attending to the drainage and sew- 
erage below hatches. These fellows are all Jimmy Duxes 

sorry chaps, who never put foot in ratlin, or venture above 
the bulwarks. Inveterate “ sons of farmers ,” with the hay- 


THE WORLD IN A M A N-0 F-W .A R. 


17 


seed yet in their hair, they are consigned to the congenial 
superintendence of the chicken-coops, pig-pens, and potato- 
lockers. These are generally placed amidships, on the gun- 
deck of a frigate, between the fore and main hatches ; and 
comprise so extensive an area, that it much resembles the 
market-place of a small town. The melodious sounds thence 
issuing, continually draw tears from th& eyes of the Waisters ; 
reminding them of their old paternal pig-pens and potato- 
patches. They are the tag-rag and bob-tail of the crew ; and 
he who is good for nothing else is good enough for a Waister. 

Three decks down — spar-deck, gun-deck, and berth-deck — 
and we come to a parcel of Troglodites or “holders” who bur- 
row, like rabbits in warrens, among the water-tanks, casks, 
and cables. Like Cornwall miners, wash off the soot from 
their skins, and they are all pale as ghosts. Unless upon rare 
occasions, they seldom come on deck to sun themselves. They 
may circumnavigate the world fifty times, and they see about 
as much of it as Jonah did in the whale’s belly. They are 
a lazy, lumpish, torpid set ; and when going ashore after a 
long cruise, come out into the day, like terrapins from their 
caves, or bears in the spring, from tree-trunks. No one ever 
knows the names of these fellows ; after a three years’ voyage, 
they still remain strangers to you. In time of tempests, when 
all hands are called to save ship, they issue forth into the 
gale, like the mysterious old men of Paris, during the massa- 
cre of the Three Days of September ; every one marvels who ' 
they are, and whence they come ; they disappear as mysteri- 
ously ; and are seen no more, until another general commotion. 

Such are the principal divisions into which a man-of-war’s 
crew is divided ; but the inferior allotments of duties are end- 
less, and would require a German commentator to chronicle. 

We say nothing here of Boatswain’s mates, Gunner’s mates}. 
Carpenter’s mates, Sail-maker’s mates, Armorer’s mates, Mas- 
ter-at-Arms, Ship’s corporals, Cockswains, Quarter-masters, 
Quarter-gunners, Captains of the Forecastle, Captains of the 
Fore-top, Captains of the Main-top, Captains of the Mizen- . 


18 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


top, Captains of the After-Guard, Captains of the Main-Hold, 
Captains of the Fore-Hold, Captains of the Head, Coopers, 
Painters, Tinkers, Commodore’s Steward, Captain’s Steward, 
Ward-Room Steward, Steerage Steward, Commodore’s cook, 
Captain’s cook, Officers’ cook, Cooks of the range, Mess-cooks, 
hammock-hoys, messenger boys, cot-boys, loblolly-boys, and 
numberless others, whose functions are fixed and peculiar. 

It is from this endless subdivision of duties in a man-of-war, 
that, upon first entering one, a sailor has need of a good mem- 
ory, and the more of an Arithmetician he is, the better. 

White- Jacket, for one, was a long time rapt in calcula- 
tions, concerning the various “numbers” allotted him by the 
First Luff, otherwise known as the First Lieutenant. In 
the first place, White- Jacket was given the number of his 
mess ; then, his ships number , or the number to which he 
must answer when the watch-roll is called ; then, the number 
of his hammock ; then, the number of the gun to which he 
was assigned ; besides a variety of other numbers ; all of which 
would have taken Jedediah Buxton himself some time to ar- 
range in battalions, previous to adding up. All these num- 
bers, moreover, must be well remembered, or woe betide you. 

Consider, now, a sailor altogether unused to the tumult of 
a man-of-war, for the first time stepping on board, and given 
all these numbers to recollect. Already, before hearing them, 
his head is half stunned with the unaccustomed sounds ring- 
ing in his ears ; which ears seem to him like belfries full of 
tocsins. On the gun-deck, a thousand scythed chariots seem 
passing ; he hears the tread"*of armed marines ; the clash of 
cutlasses and curses. The Boatswain’s mates whistle round 
him, like hawks screaming in a gale, and the strange noises 
under decks, are like volcanic rumblings in a mountain. He 
dodges sudden sounds, as a raw recruit falling bombs. 

Well-nigh useless to him, now, all previous circumnaviga- 
tions of this terraqueous globe ; of no account his arctic, ant- 
arctic, or equinoctial experiences ; his gales offBeachy Head, 
or his dismastings off Hatteras. He must begin anew ; he 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


\d 


knows nothing ; Greek and Hebrew could not help him, for 
the language he must learn has neither grammar nor lexicon. 

Mark him, as he advances along the files of old ocean- war- 
riors ; mark his debased attitude, his deprecating gestures, hir 
Sawney stare, like a Scotchman in London; his — “ cry youi 
mercy , noble seignors!” He is wholly nonplused, and con 
founded. And when, to crown all, the First Lieutenant, 
whose business it is to welcome all new-comers, and assign 
them their quarters ; when this officer — none of the most 
bland or amiable either — gives him number after number to 
recollect — 246 — 139 — 478 — 351 — the poor fellow feels like 
decamping. 

Study, then, your mathematics, and cultivate all your mem- 
ories, oh ye ! who think of cruising in men-of-war. 


CHAPTER IV. 


JACK CHASE. 

The first night out of port was a clear, moonlight one ; 
the frigate gliding through the water, with all her batteries. 

It was my Quarter Watch in the top ; and there I reclined 
on the best possible terms with my top-mates. Whatever the 
other seamen might have been, these were a noble set of 
tars, and well worthy an introduction to the reader. 

First and foremost was Jack Chase, our noble First Cap- 
tain of the Top. He was a Briton, and a true-blue ; tall 
and well-knit, with a clear open eye, a fine broad brow, and 
an abounding nut-brown beard. No man ever had a better 
heart or a bolder. He was loved by the seamen and admired 
by the officers ; and even when the Captain spoke to him, it 
was with a slight air of respect. Jack was a frank and 
charming man. 

No one could be better company in forecastle or saloon ; 
no man told such stories, sang such songs, or with greater 
alacrity sprang to his duty. Indeed, there was only one thing 
wanting about him ; and that was, a finger of his left hand, 
which finger he had lost at the great battle of Navarino. 

He had a high conceit of his profession as a seaman ; and 
being deeply versed in all things pertaining to a man-of-war, 
was universally regarded as an oracle. The main-top, over 
which he presided, was a sort of oracle of Delphi ; to which, 
many pilgrims ascended, to have their perplexities or differ- 
ences settled. 

There was such an abounding air of good sense and good 
feeling about the man, that he who could not love him, would 
thereby pronounce himself a knave. I thanked my sweet 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


21 


stars, that kind fortune had placed me near him, though un- 
der him, in the frigate ; and from the outset Jack and I were 
fast friends. 

Wherever you may be now rolling over the blue billows, 
dear Jack ! take my best love along with you; and God bless 
you, wherever you go ! 

Jack was a gentleman. What though his hand was hard, 
so was not his heart, too often the case with soft palms. His 
manners were easy and free; none of the boisterousness, so 
common to tars ; and he had a polite, courteous way of salut- 
ing you, if it were only to borrow your knife. Jack had read 
all the verses of Byron, and all the romances of Scott. He 
talked of Rob Roy, Don Juan, and Pelham ; Macbeth and 
Ulysses ; but, above all things, was an ardent admirer of 
Camoens. Parts of the Lusiad, he could recite in the original. 
Where he had obtained his wonderful accomplishments, it is 
not for me, his humble subordinate, to say. Enough, that 
those accomplishments were so various ; the languages he 
could converse in, so numerous ; that he more than furnished 
an example of that saying of Charles the Fifth — he who speaks 
five languages is as good as five men. But Jack, he was 
better than a hundred, common mortals ; Jack was a whole 
phalanx, an entire army ; Jack was a thousand strong ; Jack 
would have done honor to the Queen of England’s drawing- 
room ; Jack must have been a by-blow of some British Ad- 
miral of the Blue. A finer specimen of the island race of 
Englishmen could not have been picked out of Westminster 
Abbey of a coronation day. 

His whole demeanor was in strong contrast to that of one 
of the Captains of the fore-top. This man, though a good 
seaman, furnished an example of those insufferable Britons, 
who, while preferring other countries to their own as places 
of residence ; still, overflow with all the pompousness of na- 
tional and individual vanity combined. “ When I was on 
board the Audacious” — for a long time, was almost the in- 
variable exordium to the fore-top Captain’s most cursory re- 


22 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


marks. It is often the custom of men-of-war’s-men, when 
they deem any thing to he going on wrong aboard ship, to refer 
to last cruise , when of course every thing was done ship-shape 
and Bristol fashion. And by referring to the Audacious — 
an expressive name by the way — the fore-top Captain meant 
a ship in the English navy, in which he had had the honor of 
serving. So continual were his allusions to this craft with 
the amiable name, that at last, the Audacious was voted a 
bore by his shipmates. And one hot afternoon, during a calm, 
when the fore-top Captain, like many others, was standing 
still and yawning on the spar-deck ; Jack Chase, his own 
countryman, came up to him, and pointing at his open mouth, 
politely inquired, whether that was the way they caught flies 
in Her Britannic Majesty’s ship, the Audacious ? After that, 
we heard no more of the craft. 

Now, the tops of a frigate are quite spacious and cosy. 
They are railed in behind so as to form a kind of balcony, 
very pleasant of a tropical night. From twenty to thirty 
loungers may agreeably recline there, cushioning themselves 
on old sails and jackets. We had rare times in that top. We 
accounted ourselves the best seamen in the ship ; and from 
our airy perch, literally looked down upon the landlopers be- 
low, sneaking about the deck, among the guns. In a large 
degree, we nourished that feeling of “ esprit de corps f always 
pervading, more or less, the various sections of a man-of-war’s 
crew. We main-top-men were brothers, one and all ; and 
we loaned ourselves to each other with all the freedom in the 
world. 

Nevertheless, I had not long been a member of this frater- 
nity of fine fellows, ere I discovered that Jack Chase, our 
captain, was — like all prime favorites and oracles among men 
— a little bit of a dictator ; not peremptorily, or annoyingly 
so, but amusingly intent on egotistically mending our man- 
ners and improving our taste, so that we might reflect credit 
upon our tutor. 

He made us all wear our hats at a particular angle — in- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


23 


structed us in the tie of our neck handkerchiefs ; and protest- 
ed against our wearing vulgar dungeree trowsers ; besides 
giving us lessons in seamanship ; and solemnly conjuring us, 
forever to eschew the company of any sailor we suspected of 
having served in a whaler. Against all whalers, indeed, he 
cherished the unmitigated detestation of a true man-of-war’s 
man. Poor Tubbs can testify to that. 

Tubbs was in the After-Guard ; a long, lank Vineyarder, 
eternally talking of line-tubs, Nantucket, sperm oil, stove 
boats, and Japan. Nothing could silence him ; and his com- 
parisons were ever invidious. 

Now, with all his soul, Jack abominated this Tubbs. He 
said he was vulgar, an upstart — Devil take him, he’s been in 
a whaler. But like many men, who have been where you 
haven’t been ; or seen what you haven’t seen ; Tubbs, on ac- 
count of his whaling experiences, absolutely affected to look 
down upon Jack, even as Jack did upon him; and this it 
was that so enraged our noble captain. 

One night, with a peculiar meaning in his eye, he sent me 
down on deck to invite Tubbs up aloft for a chat. Flattered 
by so marked an honor — for we were somewhat fastidious, 
and did not extend such invitations to every body — Tubbs 
quickly mounted the rigging, looking rather abashed at find- 
ing himself in the august presence of the assembled Quarter- 
Watch of main-top-men. Jack’s courteous manner, however, 
very soon relieved his embarrassment ; but it is no use to be 
courteous to some men in this world. Tubbs belonged to that 
category. No sooner did the bumpkin feel himself at ease, 
than he lanched out, as usual, into tremendous laudations of 
whalemen ; declaring that whalemen alone deserved the name 
of sailors. Jack stood it some time ; but when Tubbs came 
down upon men-of-war, and particularly upon main-top-men, 
his sense of propriety was so outraged, that he lanched into 
Tubbs like a forty-two pounder. 

“ Why, you limb of Nantucket ! you train-oil man ! you 
sea-tallow strainer ! you bobber after carrion ! do you pretend 


24 


WHIT E-J ACRE T. 


to vilify a man-of-war ? Why, you lean rogue, you, a man- 
of-war is to whalemen, as a metropolis to shire-towns, and se- 
questered hamlets. Here's the place for life and commotion ; 
here's the place to he gentlemanly and jolly. And what did 
you know, you bumpkin ! before you came on board this An- 
drew Miller ? What knew you of gun-deck, or orlop, mus- 
tering round the capstan, beating to quarters, and piping to 
dinner ? Did you ever roll to grog on board your greasy bal- 
lyhoo of blazes ? Did you ever winter at Mahon ? Did you 
ever ‘ lash and carry V Why, what are even a merchant- 
seaman’s sorry yarns of voyages to China after tea-caddies, 
and voyages to the West Indies after sugar puncheons, and 
voyages to the Shetlands after seal-skins — what are even 
these yams, you Tubbs you ! to high life in a man-of-war ? 
Why, you dead-eye ! I have sailed with lords and marquises 
for captains ; and the King of the Two Sicilies has passed 
me, as I here stood up at my gun. Bah ! you are full of the 
fore-peak and the forecastle ; you are only familiar with Bur- 
tons and Billy-tackles ; your ambition never mounted above 
pig-killing ! which, in my poor opinion, is the proper phrase 
for whaling ! Topmates ! has not this Tubbs here been but 
a misuser of good oak planks, and a vile desecrator of the 
thrice holy sea ? turning his ship, my hearties ! into a fat- 
kettle, and the ocean into a whale-pen ? Begone ! you grace- 
less, godless knave ! pitch him over the top there, White- 
Jacket !” 

But there was no necessity for my exertions. Poor Tubbs, 
astounded at these fulminations, was already rapidly descend- 
ing by the rigging. 

This outburst on the part of my noble friend Jack made me 
shake all over, spite of my padded surtout ; and caused me to 
offer up devout thanksgivings, that in no evil hour had I di- 
vulged the fact of having myself served in a whaler ; for hav- 
ing previously marked the prevailing prejudice of men-of- war’s- 
men to that much-maligned class of mariners, I had wisely 
held my peace concerning stove boats on the coast of Japan. 


CHAPTER V. 


.TACK CHASE ON A SPANISH QUARTER-DECK. 

Here, I must frankly tell a story about Jack, which, as 
touching his honor and integrity, I am sure, will not work 
against him, in any charitable man’s estimation. On this 
present cruise of the frigate Neversink, Jack had deserted ; 
and after a certain interval, had been captured. 

But with what purpose had he deserted ? To avoid naval 
discipline ? to riot in some abandoned sea-port ? for love of 
some worthless signorita ? Not at all. He abandoned the 
frigate from far higher and nobler, nay, glorious motives. 
Though bowing to naval discipline afloat ; yet ashore, he was 
a stickler for the Rights of Man, and the liberties of the world. 
He went to draw a partisan blade in the civil commotions of 
Peru ; and befriend, heart and soul, what he deemed the cause 
of the Right. 

At the time, his disappearance excited the utmost astonish- 
ment among the officers, who had little suspected him of any 
such conduct as deserting. 

“ What ? Jack, my great man of the main-top, gone !” cried 
the Captain : “ I’ll not believe it.” 

“Jack Chase cut and run!” cried a sentimental middy. 
“ It must have been all for love, then ; the signoritas have 
turned his head.” 

“ Jack Chase not to be found ?” cried a growling old sheet- 
anchor-man, one of your malicious prophets of past events : 
“I thought so; I know’d it; I could have sworn it — just 
the chap to make sail on the sly. I always s’pected him.” 

Months passed away, and nothing was heard of J ack ; till 
at last, the frigate came to anchor on the coast, alongside of 
a Peruvian sloop of war. 


B 


2b 


WHITE JACKET; OR, 


Bravely clad in the Peruvian uniform, and with a fine, 
mixed martial and naval step, a tall, striking figure of a long- 
bearded officer was descried, promenading the Quarter-deck 
of the stranger ; and superintending the salutes, which are 
exchanged between national vessels on these occasions. 

This fine officer touched his laced hat most courteously to 
our Captain, who, after returning the compliment, stared at 
him, rather impolitely, through his spy-glass. 

“ By Heaven !” he cried at last — “it is he — he can’t dis- 
guise his walk — that’s his beard ; I’d know him in Cochin 
China. — Man the first cutter there ! Lieutenant Blink, go 
on board that sloop of war, and fetch me yon officer.” 

All hands were aghast — What ? when a piping-hot peace 
was between the United States and Peru, to send an armed 
body on board a Peruvian sloop of war, and seize one of its 
officers, in broad daylight ? — Monstrous infraction of the Law 
of Nations ! What would Vattel say ? 

But Captain Claret must be obeyed. So oil’ went the cut- 
ter, every man armed to the teeth, the lieutenant-command- 
ing having secret instructions, and the midshipmen attending 
looking ominously wise, though, in truth, they could not tell 
what was coming. 

Gaining the sloop of war, the lieutenant was received with 
the customary honors ; but by this time the tall, bearded offi- 
cer had disappeared from the Quarter-deck. The Lieuten- 
ant now inquired for the Peruvian Captain ; and being shown 
into the cabin, made known to him, that on board his vessel 
was a person belonging to the United States Ship Neversink ; 
and his orders were, to have that person delivered up instanter. 

The foreign captain curled his mustache in astonishment 
and indignation ; he hinted something about beating to quar- 
ters, and chastising this piece of Yankee insolence. 

But resting one gloved hand upon the table, and playing 
with his sword-knot, the Lieutenant, with a bland firmness, 
repeated his demand. At last, the whole case being so plain- 
ly made out, and the person in question being so accurately 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


27 


described, even to a mole on his cheek, there j^mained noth- 
ing but immediate compliance. 

So the fine-looking, bearded officer, who had so courteously 
doffed his chapeau to our Captain, but disappeared upon the 
arrival of the Lieutenant, was summoned into the cabin, be- 
fore his superior, who addressed him thus : — 

“ Don John, this gentleman declares, that of right you be- 
long to the frigate Neversink. Is it so ?” 

“It is even so, Don Sereno,” said Jack Chase, proudly 
folding his gold-laced coat-sleeves across his chest — “ and as 
there is no resisting the frigate, I comply. — Lieutenant Blink, 
I am ready. Adieu ! Don Sereno, and Madre de Dios pro- 
tect you ! You have been a most gentlemanly friend and cap- 
tain to me. I hope you will yet thrash your beggarly foes.” 

With that he turned ; and entering the cutter, was pulled 
back to the frigate, and stepped up to Captain Claret, where 
that gentleman stood on the quarter-deck. 

“ Your servant, my fine Don,” said the Captain, ironically 
lifting his chapeau, but regarding Jack at the same time with 
a look of intense displeasure. 

“ Your most devoted and penitent Captain of the Main-top, 
sir ; and one who, in his very humility of contrition is yet 
proud to call Captain Claret his commander,” said Jack, 
making a glorious bow, and then tragically flinging over- 
board his Peruvian sword. 

“Reinstate him at once,” shouted Captain Claret — “and 
now, sir, to your duty ; and discharge that well to the end 
of the cruise, and you will hear no more of your having run 
away.” 

So Jack went forward among crowds of admiring tars, 
who swore by his nut-brown beard, which had amazingly 
lengthened and spread during his absence. They divided his 
aced hat and coat among them ; and on their shoulders, car- 
ried him in triumph along the gun-deck. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE QUARTER-DECK OFFICERS, WARRANT OFFICERS, AND BERTH- 
DECK UNDERLINGS OF A MAN-OF-WAR J WHERE THEY LIVE IN 
THE SHIP ; HOW THEY LIVE | THEIR SOCIAL STANDING ON 
SHIP-BOARD ; AND WHAT SORT OF GENTLEMEN THEY ARE. 

Some account has been given of the various divisions into 
which our Crew was divided ; so it may be well to say some- 
thing of the officers ; who they are, and what are their functions. 

Our ship, be it known, was the flag-ship ; that is, we sport- 
ed a broad 'pennant , or bougee, at the main, in token that we 
carried a Commodore — the highest rank of officers recognized 
in the American navy. The buogee is not to be confounded 
with the long pennant or coach-whip , a tapering, serpentine 
streamer worn by all men-of-war. 

Owing to certain vague, republican scruples, about creating 
great officers of the navy, America has thus far had no admi- 
rals ; though, as her ships of war increase, they may become 
indispensable. This will assuredly be the case, should she 
ever have occasion to employ large fleets ; when she must 
adopt something like the English plan, and introduce three 
or four grades of flag-officers, above a Commodore — Admi- 
rals, Vice-Admirals, and Rear-Admirals of Squadrons ; distin- 
guished by the colors of their flags, — red, white, and blue, cor- 
responding to the centre, van, and rear. These rank respect- 
ively with Generals, Lieutenant Generals, and Major Gener- 
als in the army ; just as a Commodore takes rank with a 
Brigadier General. So that the same prejudice which pre- 
vents the American Government from creating Admirals 
should have precluded the creation of all army officers above 
a Brigadier. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


2 9 


An American Commodore, like an English Commodore, or 
the French Chef d’Escadre, is hut a senior Captain, tem- 
porarily commanding a small number of ships, detached for any 
special purpose. He has no permanent rank, recognized by 
Government, above his captaincy ; though once employed as 
a Commodore, usage and courtesy unite in continuing the title. 

Our Commodore was a gallant old man, who had seen 
service in his time. When a lieutenant, he served in the 
Late War with England ; and in the gun-boat actions on 
the Lakes nearNew Orleans, just previous to the grand land 
engagements, received a musket-ball in his shoulder ; which, 
with the two balls in his eyes, he carries about with him to 
this day. 

Often, when I looked at the venerable old warrior, doubled 
up from the effect of his wound, I thought what a curious, as 
well as painful sensation, it must be, to have one’s shoulder a 
lead-mine ; though, sooth to say, so many of us civilized mor- 
tals convert our mouths into Golcondas. 

On account of this wound in his shoulder, our Commodore 
had a body-servant’s pay allowed him, in addition to his reg- 
ular salary. I can not say a great deal, personally, of the 
Commodore ; he never sought my company at all ; never ex- 
tended any gentlemanly courtesies. 

But though I can not say much of him personally, I can 
mention something of him in his general character, as a flag- 
officer. In the first place, then, I have serious doubts, whether, 
for the most part, he was not dumb ; for, in my hearing, he 
seldom or never uttered a word. And not only did he seem 
dumb himself, but his presence possessed the strange power of 
making other people dumb for the time. His appearance on 
the Quarter-deck seemed to give every officer the lock-jaw. 

Another phenomenon about him was the strange manner 
in which every one shunned him. At the first sign of those 
epaulets of his on the weather side of the poop, the officers 
there congregated invariably shrunk over to leeward, and left 
him alone. Perhaps he had an evil eye ; may be he was the 


30 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Wandering Jew afloat. The real reason probably was, that, 
like all high functionaries, he deemed it indispensable relig** 
iously to sustain his dignity ; one of the most troublesome 
things in the world, and one calling for the greatest self-de- 
nial. And the constant watch, and many-sided guardedness, 
which this sustaining of a Commodore’s dignity requires, plain- 
ly enough shows that, apart from the common dignity of man- 
hood, Commodores, in general, possess no real dignity at all. 
True, it is expedient for crowned heads, generalissimos, Lord- 
high-admirals, and Commodores, to carry themselves straight, 
and beware of the spinal complaint ; but it is not the less veri- 
table, that it is a piece of assumption, exceedingly uncomfort- 
able to themselves, and ridiculous to an enlightened generation. 

Now, how many rare good fellows there were among us 
main-top-men, who, invited into his cabin over a social bot- 
tle or two, would have rejoiced our old Commodore’s heart, 
and caused that ancient wound of his to heal up at once. 

Come, come, Commodore, don’t look so sour, old boy ; step 
up aloft here into the top , and we’ll spin you a sociable yarn. 

Truly, I thought myself much happier in that white jacket 
of mine, than our old Commodore in his dignified epaulets. 

One thing, perhaps, that more than any thing else helped 
to make our Commodore so melancholy and forlorn, was the 
fact of his having so little to do. For as the frigate had a 
captain ; of course, so far as she was concerned, our Commo- 
dore was a supernumerary. What abundance of leisure he 
must have had, during a three years’ cruise ! how indefinitely 
he might have been improving his mind ! 

But as every one knows that idleness is the hardest work 
in the world, so our Commodore was specially provided with 
a gentleman to assist him. This gentleman was called the 
Commodore's secretary. He was a remarkably urbane and 
polished man ; with a very graceful exterior, and looked much 
like an Embassador Extraordinary from Versailles. He messed 
with the Lieutenants in the Ward-room, where he had a state- 
room, elegantly furnished as the private cabinet of Pelham. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


31 


His cot-boy used to entertain the sailors with all manner of 
stories about the silver-keyed flutes and flageolets, fine oil 
paintings, morocco bound volumes, Chinese chess-men, gold 
shirt-buttons, enameled pencil cases, extraordinary fine French 
boots with soles no thicker than a sheet of scented note-paper, 
embroidered vests, incense-burning sealing-wax, alabaster stat- 
uettes of Venus and Adonis, tortoise-shell snuffboxes, inlaid 
toilet-cases, ivory-handled hair-brushes and mother-of-pearl 
combs, and a hundred other luxurious appendages scattered 
about this magnificent secretary’s state-room. 

I was a long time in finding out what this secretary’s du- 
ties comprised. But it seemed, he wrote the Commodore’s 
dispatches for Washington, and also was his general amanu- 
ensis. Nor was this a very light duty, at times ; for some 
Commodores, though they do not say a great deal on board 
ship, yet they have a vast deal to write. Very often, the reg- 
imental orderly, stationed at our Commodore’s cabin -door, 
would touch his hat to the First Lieutenant, and with a mys- 
terious air hand him a note. I always thought these notes 
must contain most important matters of state ; until one day, 
seeing a slip of wet, torn paper in a scupper-hole, I read the 
following : 

“ Sir, you will give the people pickles to-day with their 
fresh meat. 

“ To Lieutenant Bridewell. 

“By command of the Commodore. 

“ Adolphus D ashman, Priv. Sec.” 

This was a new revelation ; for, from his almost immutable 
reserve, I had supposed that the Commodore never meddled 
immediately with the concerns of the ship, but left all that to 
the captain. But the longer we live, the more we learn of 
Commodores. 

Turn we now to the second officer in rank, almost supreme, 
however, in the internal affairs of his ship. Captain Claret 


32 


vVH IT E-JACKET; OR, 


was a large, portly man, a Harry the Eighth afloat, bluff and 
hearty ; and as kingly in his cabin as Harry on his throne. 
For a ship is a bit of terra firma cut off from the main ; it is 
a state in itself ; and the captain is its king. 

It is no limited monarchy, where the sturdy Commons have 
a right to petition, and snarl if they please ; but almost a des- 
potism, like the Grand Turk’s. The captain’s word is law ; 
he never speaks but in the imperative mood. When he stands 
on his Quarter-deck at sea, he absolutely commands as far as 
eye can reach. Only the moon and stars are beyond his juris- 
diction. He is lord and master of the sun. 

It is not twelve o’clock till he says so. For when the sail- 
ing-master, whose duty it is to take the regular observation 
at noon, touches his hat, and reports twelve o’clock to the offi- 
cer of the deck ; that functionary orders a midshipman to re- 
pair to the captain’s cabin, and humbly inform him of the 
respectful suggestion of the sailing-master. 

“ Twelve o’clock reported, sir,” says the middy. 

“ Make it so,” replies the captain. 

And the bell is struck eight by the messenger-boy, and 
twelve o’clock it is. 

As in the case of the Commodore, when the captain visits 
the deck, his subordinate officers generally beat a retreat to 
the other side ; and, as a general rule, would no more think 
of addressing him, except concerning the ship, than a lackey 
would think of hailing the Czar of Russia on his throne, and 
inviting him to tea. Perhaps no mortal man has more reason 
to feel such an intense sense of his own personal consequence, 
as the captain of a man-of-war at sea. 

Next in rank comes the First or Senior Lieutenant, the 
chief executive officer. I have no reason to love the partic- 
ular gentleman who filled that post aboard of our frigate, 
for it was he who refused my petition for as much black 
paint as would render water-proof that white-jacket of mine. 
All my soakings and drenchings lie at his state-room door. I 
hardly think I shall ever forgive him ; every twinge of the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


33 


rheumatism, which I still occasionally feel, is directly refera- 
ble to him. The Immortals have a reputation for clemency ; 
and they may pardon him ; but he must not dun me to be 
merciful. But my personal feelings toward the man shall 
not prevent me from here doing him justice. In most things, 
he was an excellent seaman ; prompt, loud, and to the point ; 
and as such, was well fitted for his station. The First Lieu- 
tenancy of a frigate demands a good disciplinarian, and, every 
way, an energetic man. By the captain he is held responsi- 
ble for every thing ; by that magnate, indeed, he is supposed 
to be omnipresent ; down in the hold, and up aloft, at one and 
the same time. 

He presides at the head of the Ward-room officers’ table, 
who are so called from their messing together in a part of the 
ship thus designated. In a frigate it comprises the after part 
of the berth-deck. Sometimes it goes by the name of the 
Gun-room, but oftener is called the Ward-room. Within, this 
Ward-room much resembles a long, wide corridor in a large 
hotel ; numerous doors opening on both hands to the private 
apartments of the officers. I never had a good interior look 
at it but once ; and then the Chaplain was seated at the table 
in the centre, playing chess with the Lieutenant of Marines. 
It was mid-day, but the place was lighted by lamps. 

Besides the First Lieutenant, the Ward-room officers in- 
clude the junior lieutenants, in a frigate six or seven in num- 
ber, the Sailing-master, Purser, Chaplain, Surgeon, Marine 
officers, and Midshipmen’s Schoolmaster, or “the Professor.” 
They generally form a very agreeable club of good fellows ; 
from their diversity of character, admirably calculated to form 
an agreeable social whole. The Lieutenants discuss sea-fights, 
and tell anecdotes of Lord Nelson and Lady Hamilton ; the 
Marine officers talk of storming fortresses, and the siege of 
Gibraltar ; the Purser steadies this wild conversation by oc- 
casional allusions to the rule of three ; the Professor is always 
charged with a scholarly reflection, or an apt line from the 
classics, generally Ovid ; the Surgeon’s stories of the amputa- 


34 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


tion-table judiciously serve to suggest the mortality of the 
whole party as men ; while the good chaplain stands ready 
at all times to give them pious counsel and consolation. 

Of course these gentlemen all associate on a footing of per- 
fect social equality. 

Next in order come the Warrant or Forward officers, con- 
sisting of the Boatswain, Gunner, Carpenter, and Sail-maker. 
Though these worthies sport long coats and wear the anchor- 
button ; yet, in the estimation of the ward-room officers, they 
are not, technically speaking, rated gentlemen. The First 
Lieutenant, Chaplain, or Surgeon, for example, would never 
dream of inviting them to dinner. In sea parlance, “ they 
come in at the hawse holes they have hard hands ; and the 
carpenter and sail-maker practically understand the duties 
which they are called upon to superintend. They mess by 
themselves. Invariably four in number, they never have 
need to play whist with a dummy. 

In this part of the category now come the “ reefers,” otter- 
wise “ middies” or midshipmen. These boys are sent to sea, 
for the purpose of making commodores ; and in order to be- 
come commodores, many of them deem it indispensable forth- 
with to commence chewing tobacco, drinking brandy and 
water, and swearing at the sailors. As they are only placed 
on board a sea-going ship to go to school and learn the duty 
of a Lieutenant ; and until qualified to act as such, have few 
or no special functions to attend to ; they are little more, 
while midshipmen, than supernumeraries on board. Hence, 
in a crowded frigate, they are so everlastingly crossing the 
path of both men and officers, that in the navy it has become 
a proverb, that a useless fellow is “ as much in the way as a 
reefer .” 

In a gale of wind, when all hands are called and the deck 
swarms with men, the little “middies” running about dis- 
tracted and having nothing particular to do, make it up in 
vociferous swearing ; exploding all about under foot like tor- 
pedoes. Some of them are terrible little boys, cocking their 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


35 


?aps at alarming angles, and looking fierce as young roosters. 
They are generally great consumers of Macassar oil and the 
Balm of Columbia ; they thirst and rage after whiskers ; and 
sometimes, applying their ointments, lay themselves out in 
the sun, to promote the fertility of their chins. 

As the only way to learn to command, is to learn to obey, 
ihe usage of a ship of war is such that the midshipmen are 
constantly being ordered about by the Lieutenants; though, 
without having assigned them their particular destinations, 
they are always going somewhere, and never arriving. In 
some things, they almost have a harder time of it than the 
seamen themselves. They are messengers and errand-boys to 
their superiors. 

“Mr. Pert,” cries an officer of the deck, hailing a young 
gentleman forward. Mr. Pert advances, touches his hat, and 
remains in an attitude of deferential suspense. “ Go and tell 
the boatswain I want him.” And with this perilous errand, 
the middy hurries away, looking proud as a king. 

The middies live by themselves in the steerage, where, 
nowadays, they dine off a table, spread with a cloth. They 
have a castor at dinner ; they have some other little boys (se- 
lected from the ship’s company) to wait upon them ; they 
sometimes drink coffee out of china. But for all these, their 
modern refinements, in some instances the affairs of their club 
go sadly to rack and ruin. The china is broken ; the japanned 
coffee-pot dented like a pewter mug in an ale-house ; the 
pronged forks resemble tooth-picks (for which they are some- 
times used) ; the table-knives are hacked- into hand-saws ; and 
the cloth goes to the sail-maker to be patched. Indeed, they 
are something like collegiate freshmen and sophomores, living 
in the college buildings, especially so far as the noise they 
make in their quarters is concerned. The steerage buzzes, 
hums, and swarms like a hive ; or like an infant-school of a 
hot day, when the schoolmistress falls asleep with a fly on 
her nose. 

In frigates, the ward-room — the retreat of the Lieutenant? 


36 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


— immediately adjoining the steerage, is on the same deck 
with it. Frequently, when the middies, waking early of a 
morning, as most youngsters do, would be kicking up their 
heels in their hammocks, or running about with double-reefed 
night-gowns, playing tag among the “clews;” the Senior 
Lieutenant would burst among them with a — “ Young gen- 
tlemen, I am astonished. You must stop this sky-larking, 
Mr. Pert, what are you doing at the table there, without your 
pantaloons ? To your hammock, sir. Let me see no more of 
this. If you disturb the ward-room again, young gentlemen, 
you shall hear of it.” And so saying, this hoary-headed Senior 
Lieutenant would retire to his cot in his state-room, like the 
father of a numerous family after getting up in his dressing- 
gown and slippers, to quiet a daybreak tumult in his populous 
nursery. 

Having now descended from Commodore to Middy, we come 
lastly to a set of nondescripts, forming also a “ mess” by them- 
selves, apart from the seamen. Into this mess, the usage of 
a man-of-war thrusts various subordinates — including the 
master-at-arms, purser’s steward, ship’s corporals, marine ser- 
geants, and ship’s yeomen, forming the first aristocracy above 
the sailors. 

The master-at-arms is a sort of high constable and school- 
master, wearing citizen’s clothes, and known by his official 
rattan. He it is whom all sailors hate. His is the univers- 
al duty of a universal informer and hunter-up of delinquents. 
On the berth-deck he reigns supreme ; spying out all grease- 
spots made by the various cooks of the seamen’s messes, and 
driving the laggards up the hatches, when all hands are call- 
ed. It is indispensable that he should be a very Vidocq in 
vigilance. But as it is a heartless, so is it a thankless office. 
Of dark nights, most masters-of-arms keep themselves in read- 
iness to dodge forty-two pound balls, dropped down the hatch- 
ways near them. 

The ship’s corporals are this worthy’s deputies and ushers. 

The marine sergeants are generally tall fellows with un* 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


3? 


yielding spines and stiff upper lips, and very exclusive in their 
tastes and predilections. 

The ship’s yeoman is a gentleman who has a sort of count- 
ing-room in a tar-cellar down in the fore-hold. More will be 
said of him anon. 

Except the officers above enumerated, there are none who 
mess apart from the seamen. The “petty officers” so called ; 
that is, the Boatswain’s, Gunner’s, Carpenter’s, and Sail-mak- 
er’s mates, the Captains of the Tops, of the Forecastle, and 
of the After-Guard, and of the Fore and Main holds, and the 
Quarter-Masters, all mess in common with the crew, and in 
the American navy are only distinguished from the common 
seamen by their slightly additional pay. But in the English 
navy they wear crowns and anchors worked on the sleeves of 
their jackets, by way of badges of office. In the French navy 
they are known by strips of worsted worn in the same place, 
like those designating the Sergeants and Corporals in the army. 

Thus it will he seen, that the dinner-table is the criterion 
of rank in our man-of-war world. The Commodore dines 
alone, because he is the only man of his rank in the ship. So 
too with the Captain ; and the Ward-room officers, warrant 
officers, midshipmen, the master-at-arms’ mess, and the com- 
mon seamen ; — all of them, respectively, dine together, be- 
cause they are, respectively, on a footing of equality. 


CHAPTER, VII. 


BREAKFAST, DINNER, AND SUPPER. 

Not only is the dinner-table a criterion of rank on board a 
man-of-war, but also the dinner hour. He who dines latest 
is the greatest man ; and he who dines earliest is accounted 
the least. In a flag-ship, the Commodore generally dines 
about four or five o’clock ; the Captain about three ; the Lieu- 
tenants about two ; while the people (by which phrase the 
common seamen are specially designated in the nomenclature 
of the quarter-deck) sit down to their salt beef exactly at noon. 

Thus it will he seen, that while the two estates of sea-kings 
and sea-lords dine at rather patrician hours — and thereby, in 
the long run, impair their digestive functions — the sea-com- 
moners, or the people, keep up their constitutions, by keeping 
up the good old-fashioned, Elizabethan, Franklin-warranted 
dinner hour of twelve. 

Twelve o’clock ! It is the natural centre, key-stone, and 
very heart of the day. At that hour, the sun has arrived at 
the top of his hill ; and as he seems to hang poised there 
a while, before coming down on the other side, it is hut rea- 
sonable to suppose that he is then stopping to dine ; setting 
an eminent example to all mankind. The rest of the day is 
called afternoon; the very sound of which fine old Saxon 
word conveys a feeling of the lee bulwarks and a nap ; a 
summer sea — soft breezes creeping over it ; dreamy dolphins 
gliding in the distance. Afternoon ! the word implies, that 
it is an after-piece, coming after the grand drama of the day ; 
something to be taken leisurely and lazily. But how can 
this be, if you dine at five ? For, after all, though Paradise 
Lost be a noble poem, and we men-of-war’s men, no doubt, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


largely partake in the immortality of the immortals ; yet, let 
us candidly confess it, shipmates, that, upon the whole, our 
dinners are the most momentous affairs of these lives we lead 
beneath the moon. What were a day without a dinner ? a 
dinnerless day ! such a day had better be a night. 

Again : twelve o’clock is the natural hour for us men-of- 
war’s men to dine, because at that hour the very time-pieces 
we have invented arrive at their terminus ; they can get no 
further than twelve ; when straightway they continue their 
old rounds again. Doubtless, Adam and Eve dined at twelve ; 
and the Patriarch Abraham in the midst of his cattle ; and 
old Job with his noon mowers and reapers, in that grand plan- 
tation of Uz ; and old Noah himself, in the Ark, must have 
gone to dinner at precisely eight bells (noon), with all his float- 
ing families and farm-yards. 

But though this antediluvian dinner hour is rejected by 
modem Commodores and Captains, it still lingers among “ the 
' people ” under their command. Many sensible things banish- 
ed from high life find an asylum among the mob. 

Some Commodores are very particular in seeing to it, that 
no man on board the ship dare to dine after his (the Commo- 
dore’s) own dessert is cleared away. — Not even the Captain. 
It is said, on good authority, that a Captain once ventured to 
dine at five, when the Commodore’s hour was four. Next 
day, as the story goes, that Captain received a private note ; 
and in consequence of that note, dined for the future at half 
past three. 

Though in respect of the dinner hour on board a man-of- 
war, the people have no reason to complain ; yet they have 
just cause, almost for mutiny, in the outrageous hours as- 
signed for their breakfast and supper. 

Eight o’clock for breakfast ; twelve for dinner ; four for 
supper ; and no meals but these ; no lunches and no cold 
snacks. Owing to this arrangement (and partly to one watch 
going to their meals before the other, at sea), all the meals 
of the twenty-four hours are crowded into a space of less 


40 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


than eight ! Sixteen mortal hours elapse between supper 
and breakfast ; including, to one watch, eight hours on deck ! 
This is barbarous ; any physician will tell you so. Think of 
it ! Before the Commodore has dined, you have supped. And 
in high latitudes, in summer-time, you have taken your last 
meal for the day, and five hours, or more, daylight to spare ! 

Mr. Secretary of the Navy, in the name of the people, you 
should interpose in this matter. Many a time have I, a main- 
top-man, found myself actually faint of a tempestuous morn- 
ing watch, when all my energies were demanded — owing to 
this miserable, unphilosophical mode of allotting the govern- 
ment meals at sea. We beg of you, Mr. Secretary, not to 
be swayed in this matter by the Honorable Board of Commo- 
dores, who will no doubt tell you that eight, twelve, and four 
are the proper hours for the people to take their meals ; in- 
asmuch, as at these hours the watches are relieved. For, 
though this arrangement makes a neater and cleaner thing 
of it for the officers, and looks very nice and superfine on pa- 
per ; yet, it is plainly detrimental to health ; and in time of 
war is attended with still more serious consequences to the 
whole nation at large. If the necessary researches were 
made, it would perhaps be found that in those instances 
where men-of-war adopting the above-mentioned hours for 
meals have encountered an enemy at night, they have pretty 
generally been beaten ; that is, in those cases where the ene- 
mies’ meal times were reasonable ; which is only to be ac- 
counted for by the fact that the people of the beaten vessels 
were fighting on an empty stomach instead of a full one. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


SELVAGEE CONTRASTED WITH MAD- JACK. 

Having glanced at the grand divisions of a man-of-war, let 
us now descend to specialities ; and, particularly, to two of 
the junior lieutenants ; lords and noblemen ; members of that 
House of Peers, the gun-room. There were several young 
lieutenants on hoard ; hut from these two — representing the 
extremes of character to be found in their department — the 
nature of the other officers of their grade in the Neversink 
must he derived. 

One of these two quarter-deck lords went among the sailors 
by a name of their own devising — Selvagee. Of course, it 
was intended to be characteristic ; and even so it was. 

In frigates, and all large ships of war, when getting under 
weigh, a large rope, called a messenger, is used to carry the 
strain of the cable to the capstan ; so that the anchor may 
be weighed, without the muddy, ponderous cable itself going 
round the capstan. As the cable enters the hawse-hole, 
therefore, something must he constantly used, to keep this 
traveling chain attached to this traveling messenger ; some- 
thing that may be rapidly wound round both, so as to hind 
them together. The article used is called a selvagee. And 
what could he better adapted to the purpose ? It is a slen- 
der, tapering, unstranded piece of rope ; prepared with much 
solicitude ; peculiarly flexible ; and wreathes and serpentines 
round the cable and messenger like an elegantly-modeled gar- 
ter-snake round the twisted stalks of a vine. Indeed, Selva- 
gee is the exact type and symbol of a tall, genteel, limber, 
spiralizing exquisite. So much for the derivation of the name 
which the sailors applied to the Lieutenant. 


42 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


From what sea-alcove, from what mermaid’s milliner’s shop, 
hast thou emerged, Selvagee ! with that dainty waist and lan- 
guid cheek ? What heartless step-dame drove thee forth, to 
waste thy fragrance on the salt sea-air ? 

Was it you , Selvagee ! that, outward-bound, off Cape Horn, 
looked at Hermit Island through an Opera-glass ? Was it 
you , who thought of proposing to the Captain, that when the 
sails were furled in a gale, a few drops of lavender should 
he dropped in their “ bunts,” so that when the canvass was 
set again, your nostrils might not he offended by its musty 
smell ? I do not say it was you, Selvagee ; I but deferen- 
tially inquire. 

In plain prose, Selvagee was one of those officers whom the 
sight of a trim-fitting naval coat had captivated in the days 
of his youth. He fanqied, that if a sea-officer dressed well, 
and conversed genteelly, he would abundantly uphold the 
honor of his flag, and immortalize the tailor that made him. 
On that rock many young gentlemen split. For upon a frig- 
ate’s quarter-deck, it is not enough to sport a coat fashioned 
by a Stultz ; it is not enough to be well braced with straps 
and suspenders ; it is not enough to have sweet reminiscences 
of Lauras and Matildas. It is a right down life of hard wear 
and tear, and the man who is not, in a good degree, fitted to 
become a common sailor will never make an officer. Take 
that to heart, all ye naval aspirants. Thrust your arms up 
to the elbow in pitch, and see how you like it, ere you solicit 
a warrant. Prepare for white squalls, living gales and Ty- 
phoons ; read accounts of shipwrecks and horrible disasters ; 
peruse the Narratives of Byron and Bligh ; familiarize your- 
selves with the story of the English frigate Alceste, and the 
French frigate Medusa. Though you may go ashore, now 
and then, at Cadiz and Palermo ; for every day so spent 
among oranges and ladies, you will have whole months of 
rains and gales. 

And even thus did Selvagee prove it. But with all the in- 
trepid effeminacy of your true dandy, he still continued his 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


43 


Cologne-water baths, and sported his lace-hordered handker- 
chiefs in the very teeth of a tempest. Alas, Selvagee ! there 
was no getting the lavender out of you. 

But Selvagee was no fool. Theoretically he understood his 
profession ; hut the mere theory of seamanship forms hut the 
thousandth part of what makes a seaman. You can not save 
a ship by working out a problem in the cabin ; the deck is the 
field of action. 

Well aware of his deficiency in some things, Selvagee never 
took the trumpet — which is* the badge of the deck officer for 
the time — without a tremulous movement of the lip, and an 
earnest, inquiring eye to the windward. He encouraged those 
old Tritons, the Quarter-masters, to discourse with him con- 
cerning the likelihood of a squall ; and often followed their 
advice as to taking in, or making sail. The smallest favors 
in that way were thankfully received. Sometimes, when all 
the North looked unusually lowering, by many conversational 
blandishments, he would endeavor to prolong his predecessor’s 
stay on deck, after that officer’s watch had expired. But in 
fine, steady weather, when the Captain would emerge from 
his cabin, Selvagee might be seen, pacing the poop with long, 
bold, indefatigable strides, and casting his eye up aloft with 
the most ostentatious fidelity. 

But vain these pretences ; he could not deceive. Selva- 
gee ! you know very well, that if it comes on to blow pretty 
hard, the First Lieutenant will be sure to interfere with his 
paternal authority. Every man and every boy in the frigate 
knows, Selvagee, that you are no Neptune. 

How unenviable his situation ! His brother officers do not 
insult him, to be sure ; but sometimes their looks are as dag- 
gers. The sailors do not laugh at him outright ; but of dark 
nights they jeer, when they hearken to that mantua-maker’s 
voice ordering a strong pull at the main brace , or hands 
by the halyards ! Sometimes, by way of being terrific, and 
making the men jump, Selvagee raps out an oath ; but the 
soft bomb stuffed with confectioner’s kisses seems to burst like 


44 


WHITE-JACKET; OK. 


a crushed rose-bud diffusing its odors. Selvagee ! Selvagee ! 
take a main- top-man’s advice ; and this cruise over, never 
more tempt the sea. 

With this gentleman of cravats and curling irons, how 
strongly contrasts the man who was born in a gale ! For in 
some time of tempest — off Cape Horn or Hatteras — Mad 
Jack must have entered the world — such things have been — 
not with a silver spoon, but with a speaking-trumpet in his 
mouth ; wrapped up in a caul, as in a main-sail — for a charm- 
ed life against shipwrecks he bears — and crying, Luff! luff> 
you may ! — steady ! — port ! World ho ! — here I am ! 

Mad Jack is in his saddle on the sea. That is his home ; 
he would not care much, if another Flood came and overflowed 
the dry land ; for what would it do but float his good ship 
higher and higher and carry his proud nation’s flag round 
the globe, over the very capitals of all hostile states ! Then 
would masts surmount spires ; and all mankind, like the Chi- 
nese boatmen in Canton River, live in flotillas and fleets, and 
find their food in the sea. 

Mad Jack was expressly created and labelled for a tar. 
Five feet nine is his mark, in his socks ; and not weighing 
over eleven stone before dinner. Like so many ship’s shrouds, 
his muscles and tendons are all set true, trim, and taut ; he 
is braced up fore and aft, like a ship on the wind. His 
broad chest is a bulk-head, that dams off the gale ; and his 
nose is an aquiline, that divides it in two, like a keel. His 
loud, lusty lungs are two belfries, full of all manner of chimes ; 
but you only hear his deepest bray, in the height of some tem- 
pest — like the great bell of St. Paul’s, which only sounds when 
the King or the Devil is dead. 

Look at him there, where he stands on the poop — one foot 
on the rail, and one hand on a shroud — his head thrown back, 
and his trumpet like an elephant’s trunk thrown up in the 
air. Is he going to shoot dead with sound, those fellows on 
the main-topsail-yard ? 

Mad Jack was a bit of a tyrant — they say all good ofii- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


45 


cers are — but the sailor’s loved him all round ; and would 
much rather stand fifty watches with him, than one with a 
rose-water sailor. 

But Mad Jack, alas ! has one fearful failing. He drinks. 
And so do we all. But Mad Jack, he only drinks brandy. 
The vice was inveterate ; surely, like Ferdinand, Count Fath- 
om, he must have been suckled at a puncheon. Very often, 
this bad habit got him into very serious scrapes. Twice was 
he put off duty by the Commodore ; and once he came near 
being broken for his frolics. So far as his efficiency as a sea- 
officer was concerned, on shore at least, Jack might bouse 
aivay as much as he pleased ; but afloat it will not do at all. 

Now, if he only followed the wise example set by those 
ships of the desert, the camels ; and while in port, drank for 
the thirst past, the thirst present, and the thirst to come — so 
that he might cross the ocean sober ; Mad Jack would get 
along pretty well. Still better, if he would but eschew brandy 
altogether ; and only drink of the limpid white- wine of the 
rills c^nd the brooks. 


CHAPTER IX. 


OF THE POCKETS THAT WERE IN THE JACKET. 

I must make some further mention of that white jacket 
of mine. 

And here be it known — by way of introduction to what is 
to follow — that to a common sailor, the living on board a man- 
of-war is like living in a market ; where you dress on the door- 
steps, and sleep in the cellar. No privacy can you have ; 
hardly one moment’s seclusion. It is almost a physical im- 
possibility, that you can ever be alone. You dine at a vast 
table d'hote ; sleep in commons, and make your toilet where 
and when you can. There is no calling for a mutton chop 
and a pint of claret by yourself ; no selecting of chambers for 
the night ; no hanging of pantaloons over the back of a chair ; 
no ringing your bell of a rainy morning, to take your coffee in 
bed. It is something like life in a large manufactory. The 
bell strikes to dinner, and hungry or not, you must dine. 

Your clothes are stowed in a large canvas bag, generally 
painted black, which you can get out of the “ rack” only once in 
the twenty-four hours ; and then, during a time of the utmost 
confusion ; among five hundred other bags, with five hundred 
other sailors diving into each, in the midst of the twilight of 
the berth deck. In some measure to obviate this inconven- 
ience, many sailors divide their wardrobes between their ham- 
mocks and their bags ; stowing a few frocks and trowsers in 
the former ; so that they can shift at night, if they wish, 
when the hammocks are piped down. But they gain very 
little by this. 

You have no place whatever but your bag or hammock, in 
which to put any thing in a man-of-war. If you lay my 


47 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

thing down, and turn your back for a moment, ten to one it 
is gone. 

Now, in sketching the preliminary plan, and laying out the 
foundation of that memorable white jacket of mine, I had had 
an earnest eye to all these inconveniences, and resolved to 
avoid them. I proposed, that not only should my jacket keep 
me warm, hut that it should also he so constructed as to con- 
tain a shirt or two, a pair of trowsers, and divers knickknacks 
— sewing utensils, hooks, biscuits, and the like. With this 
object, I had accordingly provided it with a great variety of 
pockets, pantries, clothes-presses, and cupboards. 

The principal apartments, two in number, were placed in 
the skirts, with a wide, hospitable entrance from the inside ; 
two more, of smaller capacity, were planted in each breast, 
with folding-doors communicating, so that in case of emer- 
gency, to accommodate any bulky articles, the two pockets in 
each breast could be thrown into one. There were, also, sev- 
eral unseen recesses behind the arras ; insomuch, that my 
jacket, like an old castle, was full of winding stairs, and mys- 
terious closets, crypts, and cabinets ; and like a confidential 
writing-desk, abounded in snug little out-of-the-way lairs and 
hiding-places, for the storage of valuables. 

Superadded to these, were four capacious pockets on the 
outside ; one pair to slip books into when suddenly started 
from my studies to the main-royal-yard ; and the other pair, 
for permanent mittens, to thrust my hands into of a cold night- 
watch. This last contrivance was regarded as needless by 
one of my top-mates, who showed me a pattern for sea-mit- 
tens, which he said w^as much better than mine. 

It must be known, that sailors, even in the bleakest weath- 
er, only cover their hands when unemployed ; they never wear 
mittens aloft ; since aloft, they literally carry their lives in 
their hands, and want nothing between their grasp of the 
hemp, and the hemp itself. — Therefore, it is desirable, that 
whatever things they cover their hands with, should be capa- 
ble of being slipped on and off in a moment. Nay, it is de- 


48 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


sirable, that they should he of such a nature, that in a dark 
night, when you are in a great hurry — say, going to the helm 
— they may he jumped into, indiscriminately ; and not he like 
a pair of right-and-left kids ; neither of which will admit any 
hand, hut the particular one meant for it. 

My top-mate’s contrivance was this — he ought to have got 
out a patent for it — each of his mittens was provided with 
two thumbs, one on each side ; the convenience of which 
needs no comment. But though for clumsy seamen, whose 
fingers are all thumbs, this discription of mitten might do 
very well, White- Jacket did not so much fancy it. For when 
your hand was once in the bag of the mitten, the empty thumb- 
hole sometimes dangled at your palm, confounding your ideas 
of where your real thumb might be ; or else, being carefully 
grasped in the hand, was continually suggesting the insane 
notion, that you were all the while having hold of some one 
else’s thumb. 

No ; I told my good top-mate to go away with his four 
thumbs, I would have nothing to do with them ; two thumbs 
were enough for any man. 

For some time after completing my jacket, and getting the 
furniture and household stores in it ; I thought that nothing 
could exceed it, for convenience. Seldom now did I have oc- 
casion to go to my bag, and be jostled by the crowd who were 
making their wardrobe in a heap. If I wanted any thing in 
the way of clothing, thread, needles, or literature, the chances 
were that my invaluable jacket contained it. Yes : I fairly 
hugged myself, and reveled in my jacket ; till alas ! a long 
rain put me out of conceit of it. I, and all my pockets and 
their contents, were soaked through and through, and my 
pocket-edition of Shakspeare was reduced to an omelet. 

However, availing myself of a fine sunny day that followed, 
I emptied myself out in the main-top, and spread all my goods 
and chattels to dry. But spite of the bright sun, that day 
proved a black one. The scoundrels on deck detected me in 
the act of discharging my saturated cargo ; they now knew 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


49 


that the white jacket was used for a store-house. The conse- 
quence was that, my goods being well dried and again stored 
away in my pockets, the very next night, when it was my 
quarter watch on deck, and not in the top (where they were 
all honest men), I noticed a parcel of fellows skulking about 
after me, wherever I went. To a man, they were pickpock- 
ets, and bent upon pillaging me. In vain I kept clapping my 
pockets like nervous old gentlemen in a crowd ; that same 
night I found myself minus several valuable articles. So, in 
the end, I masoned up my lockers and pantries ; and save the 
two used for mittens, the white jacket ever after was pocket- 
less. 

C 






CHAPTER X. 


FROM POCKETS TO PICKPOCKETS. 

As the latter part of the preceding chapter may seem strange 
to those landsmen, who have heen habituated to indulge in 
high-raised, romantic notions of the man-of- wan’s man’s char- 
acter ; it may not be amiss, to set down here certain facts on 
this head, which may serve to place the thing in its true light. 

From the wild life they lead, and various other causes 
(needless to mention), sailors, as a class, entertain the most 
liberal notions concerning morality and the Decalogue ; or 
rather, they take their own views of such matters, caring lit- 
tle for the theological or ethical definitions of others concern- 
ing what may be criminal, or wrong. 

Their ideas are much swayed by circumstances. They will 
covertly abstract a thing from one, whom they dislike ; and 
insist upon it, that, in such a case, stealing is no robbing. Or, 
where the theft involves something funny, as in the case of 
the white jacket, they only steal for the sake of the joke ; but 
this much is to be observed nevertheless, i. e., that they never 
spoil the joke by returning the stolen article. 

It is a good joke, for instance, and one often perpetrated on 
board ship, to stand talking to a man in a dark night watch, 
and all the while be cutting the buttons from his coat. But 
once off, those buttons never grow on again. There is no 
spontaneous vegetation in buttons. 

Perhaps it is a thing unavoidable, but the truth is that, 
among the crew of a man-of-war, scores of desperadoes are too 
often found, who stop not at the largest enormities. A spe- 
cies of highway robbery is not unknown to them. A gang 
will be informed, that such a fellow has three or four gold 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


51 


pieces in the monkey-bag, so called, or purse, which many tars 
wear round their necks, tucked out of sight. Upon this, they 
deliberately lay their plans ; and in due time, proceed to carry 
them into execution. The man they have marked is perhaps 
strolling along the benighted berth-deck to his mess-chest ; 
when, of a sudden, the foot-pads dash out from their hiding- 
place, throw him down, and while two or three gag him, and 
hold him fast, another cuts the bag from his neck, and makes 
away with it, followed by his comrades. This was more than 
once done in the Neversink. 

At other times, hearing that a sailor has something valua- 
ble secreted in his hammock, they will rip it open from under- 
neath while he sleeps, and reduce the conjecture to a certainty. 

To enumerate all the minor pilferings on board a man-of- 
war would be endless. With some highly commendable ex- 
ceptions, they rob from one another, and rob back again, till, 
in the matter of small things, a community of goods seems 
almost established ; and at last, as a whole, they become rela- 
tively honest, by nearly every man becoming the reverse. It 
is in vain that the officers, by threats of condign punishment, 
endeavor to instill more virtuous principles into their crew ; 
so thick is the mob, that not one thief in a thousand is detected. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE PURSUIT OF POETRY UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 

The feeling of insecurity concerning one’s possessions in the 
Neversink, which the things just narrated begat in the minds 
of honest men, was curiously exemplified in the case of my 
poor friend Lemsford, a gentlemanly young member of the 
After-Guard. I had very early made the acquaintance of 
Lemsford. It is curious, how unerringly a man pitches upon 
a spirit, any way akin to his own, even in the most miscel- 
laneous mob. 

Lemsford was a poet ; so thoroughly inspired with the di- 
vine afflatus, that not even all the tar and tumult of a man- 
of-war could drive it out of him. 

As may readily be imagined, the business of writing verse 
is a very different thing on the gun-deck of a frigate, from 
what the gentle and sequestered Wordsworth found it at 
placid Rydal Mount in Westmoreland. In a frigate, you can 
not sit down and meander off your sonnets, when the full heart 
prompts ; but only, when more important duties permit : such 
as bracing round the yards, or reefing top-sails fore and aft. 
Nevertheless, every fragment of time at his command was re- 
ligiously devoted by Lemsford to the Nine. At the most un- 
seasonable hours, you would behold him, seated apart, in some 
comer among the guns — a shot-box before him, pen in hand, 
and eyes “ in a fine frenzy rolling .” 

“What’s that ’ere bom nat’ral about ?” — “ He’s got a fit, 
hain’t he ?” were exclamations often made by the less lea-rued 
of his shipmates. Some deemed him a conjurer ; others a 
lunatic ; and the knowing ones said, that he must be a crazy 
Methodist. But well knowing by experience the truth of the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


53 


saying, that poetry is its own exceeding great reward , Lems- 
ford wrote on ; dashing off whole epics, sonnets, ballads, and 
acrostics, with a facility which, under the circumstances, 
amazed me. Often he read over his effusions to me ; and 
well worth the hearing they were. He had wit, imagination, 
feeling, and humor in abundance ; and out of the very ridicule 
with which some persons regarded him, he made rare met- 
rical sport, which we two together enjoyed by ourselves ; or 
shared with certain select friends. 

Still, the taunts and jeers so often leveled at my fine friend 
the poet, would now and then rouse him into rage ; and at 
such times the haughty scorn he would hurl on his foes, was 
proof positive of his possession of that one attribute, irritabil- 
ity, almost universally ascribed to the votaries of Parnassus 
and the Nine. 

My noble Captain, Jack Chase, rather patronized Lems- 
ford, and he would stoutly take his part against scores of ad- 
versaries. Frequently, inviting him up aloft into his top, he 
would beg him to recite some of his verses ; to which he 
would pay the most heedful attention, like Mecsenas listening 
to Virgil, with a book of the ^Fneid in his hand. Taking the 
liberty of a well-wisher, he would sometimes gently criticise 
the piece, suggesting a feyv immaterial alterations. And upon 
my word, noble Jack, with his native-born good sense, taste, 
and humanity, was not ill qualified to play the true part of a 
Quarterly Review ; — which is, to give quarter at last, how- 
ever severe the critique. 

Now Lemsford’s great care, anxiety, and endless source of 
tribulation was the preservation of his manuscripts. He had 
a little box, about the size of a small dressing-case, and se- 
cured with a lock, in which he kept his papers and station- 
ery. This box, of course, he could not keep in his bag or 
hammock, for, in either case, he would only be able to get at 
it once in the twenty-four hours. It was necessary to have 
it accessible at all times. So when not using it, he was 
obliged to hide it out of sight, where he could. And of all 


54 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


places in the world, a ship of war, above her hold, least 
abounds in secret nooks. Almost every inch is occupied ; al- 
most every inch is in plain sight ; and almost every inch is 
continually being visited and explored. Added to all this, 
was the deadly hostility of the whole tribe of ship-underlings 
— master-atjarms, ship’s corporals, and boatswain’s mates, 
— both to the poet and his casket. They hated his box, as 
if it had been Pandora’s, crammed to the very lid with hur- 
ricanes and gales. They hunted out his hiding-places like 
pointers, and gave him no peace night or day. 

Still, the long twenty-four-pounders on the main-deck of- 
fered some promise of a hiding-place to the box ; and, accord- 
ingly, it was often tucked away behind the carriages, among 
the side tackles ; its black color blending with the ebon hue 
of the guns. 

But Quoin, one of the quarter-gunners, had eyes like a 
ferret. Quoin was a little old man-of-war’s man, hardly five 
feet high, with a complexion like a gun-shot wound after it is 
healed. He was indefatigable in attending to his duties; 
which consisted in taking care of one division of the guns, em- 
bracing ten of the aforesaid twenty-four-pounders. Ranged 
up against the ship’s side at regular intervals, they resembled 
not a little a stud of sable chargers in their stalls. Among 
this iron stud little Quoin was continually running in and out, 
currying them down, now and then, with an old rag, or keep- 
ing the flies off with a brush. To Quoin, the honor and dig- 
nity of the United States of America seemed indissolubly link- 
ed with the keeping his guns unspotted and glossy. He him- 
self was black as a chimney-sweep with continually tending 
them, and rubbing them down with black paint. He would 
sometimes get outside of the port-holes and peer into their 
muzzles, as a monkey into a bottle. Or, like a dentist, he 
seemed intent , upon examining their teeth. Quite as often, 
he would be brushing out their touch-holes with a little wisp 
of oakum, like a Chinese barber in Canton, cleaning a pa- 
tient’s ear. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


55 


Such was his solicitude, that it was a thousand pities he 
was not able to dwarf himself still more, so as to creep in at 
the touch-hole, and examining the whole interior of the tube, 
emerge at last from the muzzle. Quoin swore by his guns, and 
slept by their side. Woe betide the man whom he found 
leaning against them, or in any way soiling them. He seem- 
ed seized with the crazy fancy, that his darling twenty-four- 
pounders were fragile, and might break, like glass retorts. 

Now, from this Quoin’s vigilance, how could my poor friend 
the poet hope to escape with his box ? Twenty times a week 
it was pounced upon, with a “ here’s that d — d pill-box again !” 
and a loud threat, to pitch it overboard the next time, with- 
out a moment’s warning, or benefit of clergy. Like many 
poets, Lemsford was nervous, and upon these occasions he 
trembled like a leaf. Once, with an inconsolable countenance, 
he came to me, saying that his casket was nowhere to be found ; 
he had sought for it in his hiding-place, and it was not there. 

I asked him where he had hidden it ? 

“ Among the guns,” he replied. 

“ Then depend upon it, Lemsford, that Quoin has been the 
death of it.” 

Straight to Quoin went the pcet. But Quoin knew noth- 
ing about it. For ten mortal days the poet was not to be 
comforted ; dividing his leisure time between cursing Quoin 
and lamenting his loss. The world is undone, he must have 
thought ; no such calamity has befallen it since the Deluge ; 
— my verses are perished. 

But though Quoin, as it afterward turned out, had indeed 
found the box, ‘it so happened that he had not destroyed it ; 
which no doubt led Lemsford to infer that a superintending 
Providence had interposed to preserve to posterity his invalu- 
able casket. It was found at last, lying exposed near the 
galley. 

Lemsford was not the only literary man on board the Nev- 
ersink. There were three or four persons who kept journals 
of the cruise. One of these journalists embellished his work 


56 


WHITE-JACKET. 


— which was written in a large blank account-hook — with 
various colored illustrations of the harbors and bays at which 
the frigate had touched ; and also, with small crayon sketch- 
es of comical incidents on board the frigate itself. He would 
frequently read passages of his book to an admiring circle of 
the more refined sailors, between the guns. They pronounced 
the whole performance a miracle of art. As the author de- 
clared to them that it was all to be printed and published so 
soon as the vessel reached home, they vied with each other in 
procuring interesting items, to be incorporated into additional 
chapters. But it having been rumored abroad that this jour- 
nal was to be ominously entitled “ The Cruise of the Never - 
sink , or a Paixhan Shot into Naval Abuses and it hav- 
ing also reached the ears of the Ward-room that the work 
contained reflections somewhat derogatory to the dignity of 
the officers, the volume was seized by the master-at-arms, 
armed with a warrant from the Captain. A few days after, 
a large nail was driven straight through the two covers, and 
clinched on the other side, and, thus everlastingly sealed, the 
book was committed to the deep. The ground taken by the 
authorities on this occasion was, perhaps, that the book was 
obnoxious to a certain clause in the Articles of War, forbid- 
ding any person in the Navy to bring any other person in the 
Navy into contempt, which the suppressed volume undoubt- 
edly did. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE GOOD OP. BAD TEMPER OP MEN-OF-WAR’s MEN, IN A GREAT 
DEGREE, ATTRIBUTABLE TO THEIR PARTICULAR STATIONS 
AND DUTIES ABOARD SHIP. 

Quoin, the quarter-gunner, was the representative of a class 
on board the Never sink, altogether too remarkable to be left 
astern, without further notice, in the rapid wake of these 
chapters. 

As has been seen, Quoin was full of unaccountable whim- 
sies ; he was, withal, a very cross, bitter, ill-natured, inflam- 
mable little old man. So, too, were all the members of the 
gunner’s gang ; including the two gunner’s mates, and all 
the quarter-gunners. Every one of them had the same dark 
brown complexion ; all their faces looked like smoked hams. 
They were continually grumbling and growling about the 
batteries ; running in and out among the guns ; driving the 
sailors away from them ; and cursing and swearing as if all 
their consciences had been powder-singed, and made callous', 
by their calling. Indeed they were a most unpleasant set of 
men ; especially Priming, the nasal-voiced gunner’s mate, 
with the hare-lip ; and Cylinder, his stuttering coadjutor, with 
the clubbed foot. But you will always observe, that the gun- 
ner’s gang of every man-of-war are invariably ill-tempered, 
ugly featured, and quarrelsome. Once when I visited an En- 
glish line-of-battle ship, the gunner’s gang were at work fore 
and aft, polishing up the batteries, which, according to the 
Admiral’s fancy, had been painted white as snow. Fidget- 
ing round the great thirty-two-pounders, and making stinging 
remarks at the sailors and each other, they reminded one of a 
swarm of black wasps, buzzing about rows of white head- 
stones in a church-yard. 

c# 


58 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Now, there can he little doubt, that their being so much 
among the guns is the very tiling that makes a gunner’s 
gang so cross and quarrelsome. Indeed, this was once proved 
to the satisfaction of our whole company of main-top-men. A 
fine top-mate of ours, a most merry and companionable fellow, 
chanced to he promoted to a quarter-gunner’s berth. A few 
days afterward, some of us main- top-men, his old comrades, 
went to pay him a visit, while he was going his regular 
rounds through the division of guns allotted to his care. But 
instead of greeting us with his usual heartiness, and cracking 
his pleasant jokes, to our amazement, he did little else hut 
scowl ; and at last, when we rallied him upon his ill-temper, 
he seized a long black rammer from overhead, and drove us 
on deck ; threatening to report us, if we ever dared to he fa- 
miliar with him again. 

My top-mates thought that this remarkable metamorphose 
was the effect produced upon a weak, vain character, sudden- 
ly elevated from the level of a mere seaman to the dignified 
position of a petty-officer. But though, in similar cases, I had 
seen such effects produced upon some of the crew ; yet, in the 
present instance, I knew better than that ; — it was solely 
brought about by his consorting with those villainous, irrita- 
ble, ill-tempered cannon ; more especially from his being sub- 
ject to the orders of those deformed blunderbusses, Priming 
and Cylinder. 

The truth seems to be, indeed, that all people should be 
very careful in selecting their callings and vocations ; very 
careful in seeing to it, that they surround themselves by good- 
humored, pleasant-looking objects ; and agreeable, temper- 
soothing sounds. Many an angelic disposition has had its 
even edge turned, and hacked like a saw ; and many a sweet 
draught of piety has soured on the heart, from people’s choos- 
ing ill-natured employments, and omitting to gather round 
them good-natured landscapes. Gardeners are almost always 
pleasant, affable people to converse with ; but beware of quar- 
ter-gunners, keepers of arsenals, and lonely light-house men. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


59 


And though you will generally observe, that people living in 
arsenals and light-houses endeavor to cultivate a few flowers 
in pots, and perhaps a few cabbages in patches, by way of 
keeping up, if possible, some gayety of spirits ; yet, it will not 
do ; their going among great guns and muskets, everlastingly 
mildews the blossoms of the one ; and how can even cabbages 
thrive in a soil, whereunto the moldering keels of shipwrecked 
vessels have imparted the loam ? 

It would be advisable for any man, who from an unlucky 
choice of a profession, which it is too late to change for anoth- 
er, should find his temper souring, to endeavor to counteract 
that misfortune, by filling his private chamber with amiable, 
pleasurable sights and sounds. In summer time, an AEolian 
harp can be placed in your window at a very trifling expense ; 
a conch-shell might stand on your mantel, to be taken up and 
held to the ear, that you may be soothed by its continual lull- 
ing sound, when you feel the blue fit stealing over you. For 
sights, a gay-painted punch-bowl, or Dutch tankard — never 
mind about filling it — might be recommended. It should be 
placed on a bracket in the pier. Nor is an old-fashioned silver 
ladle, nor a chased dinner-castor, nor a fine portly demijohn, 
nor any thing, indeed, that savors of eating and drinking, bad 
to drive off the spleen. But perhaps the best of all is a shelf 
of merrily-bound books, containing comedies, farces, songs, and 
humorous novels. You need never open them ; only have the 
titles in plain sight. For this purpose, Peregrine Pickle is a 
good book ; so is Gil Bias ; so is Goldsmith. 

But of all chamber furniture in the world, best calculated 
to cure a bad temper, and breed a pleasant one, is the sight 
of a lovely wife. If you have children, however, that are 
teething, the nursery should be a good way up stairs ; at sea, 
it ought to be in the mizzen-top. Indeed, teething children 
play the very deuce with a husband’s temper. I have known 
three promising young husbands completely spoil on their 
wives’ hands, by reason of a teething child, whose worrisome- 
ness happened to be aggravated at the time by the summer- 


60 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


complaint. With a breaking heart, and my handkerchief to 
my eyes, I followed those three hapless young husbands, one 
after the other, to their premature graves. 

Gossiping scenes breed gossips. Who so chatty as hotel- 
clerks, market-women, auctioneers, bar-keepers, apothecaries, 
newspaper-reporters, monthly-nurses, and all those who live 
in bustling crowds, or are present at scenes of chatty interest. 

Solitude breeds taciturnity ; that every body knows ; who 
so taciturn as authors, taken as a race ? 

A forced, interior quietude, in the midst of great outward 
commotion, breeds moody people. Who so moody as rail-road- 
brakemen, steam-boat engineers, helmsmen, and tenders of 
power-looms in cotton factories ? For all these must hold 
their peace while employed, and let the machinery do the 
chatting ; they can not even edge in a single syllable. 

Now, this theory about the wondrous influence of habitual 
sights and sounds upon the human temper, was suggested by 
my experiences on board our frigate. And although I regard 
the example furnished by our quarter-gunners— especially him 
who had once been our top-mate — as by far the strongest ar- 
gument in favor of the general theory ; yet, the entire ship 
abounded with illustrations of its truth. Who were more 
liberal-hearted, lofty-minded, gayer, more jocund, elastic, ad- 
venturous, given to fun and frolic, than the top-men of the fore, 
main, and mizzen masts ? The reason of their liberal-heart- 
edness was, that they were daily called upon to expatiate 
themselves all over the rigging. The reason of their lofty- 
mindedness was, that they were high lifted above the petty 
tumults, carping cares, and paltrinesses of the decks below. 

And I feel persuaded in my inmost soul, that it is to the 
fact of my having been a main-top-man ; and especially my 
particular post being on the loftiest yard of the frigate, the 
main-royal-yard ; that I am now enabled to give such a free, 
broad, off-hand, bird’s-eye, and, more than all, impartial ac- 
count of our man-of-war world ; withholding nothing ; invent- 
ing nothing ; nor flattering, nor scandalizing any ; but met- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


61 


ing out to all — commodore and messenger-boy alike — their 
precise descriptions and deserts. 

The reason of the mirthfulness of these top-men was, that 
they always looked out upon the blue, boundless, dimpled, 
laughing, sunny sea. Nor do I hold, that it militates against 
this theory, that of a stormy day, when the face of the ocean 
was black, and overcast, that some of them would grow moody, 
and chose to sit apart. On the contrary, it only proves the 
thing which I maintain. For even on shore, there are many 
people, naturally gay and light-hearted, who, whenever the 
autumnal wind begins to bluster round the corners, and roar 
along the chimney-stacks, straight become cross, petulant, and 
irritable. What is more mellow than fine old ale ? Yet 
thunder will sour the best nut-brown ever brewed. 

The Holders of our frigate, the Troglodytes, who lived down 
in the tarry cellars and caves below the berth-deck, were, 
nearly all of them, men of gloomy dispositions, taking sour 
views of things ; one of them was a blue-light Calvinist. 
Whereas, the old-sheet-anchor-men, who spent their time in 
the bracing sea-air and broad-cast sunshine of the forecastle, 
were free, generous-hearted, charitable, and full of good-will 
to all hands ; though some of them, to tell the truth, proved 
sad exceptions ; but exceptions only prove the rule. 

The “ steady-cooks” on the berth-deck, the “ steady-sweep- 
ers,” and “ steady-spit-box-musterers,” in all divisions of the 
frigate, fore and aft, were a narrow-minded set ; with con- 
tracted souls ; imputable, no doubt, to their groveling duties. 
More especially was this evinced in the case of those odious 
ditchers and night scavengers, the ignoble “ Waisters.” 

The members of the band, some ten or twelve in number, 
who had nothing to do but keep their instruments polished, 
and play a lively air now and then, to stir the stagnant cur- 
rent in our poor old Commodore’s torpid veins, were the most 
gleeful set of fellows you ever saw. They were Portuguese, 
who had been shipped at the Cape De Verd islands, on the 
passage out. They messed by themselves ; forming a dinner- 


62 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


party, not to be exceeded in mirthfulness, by a club of young 
bridegrooms, three months after marriage, completely satisfied 
with their bargains, after testing them. 

But what made them, now, so full of fun ? What indeed 
but their merry, martial, mellow calling. Who could be a 
churl, and play a flageolet ? who mean and spiritless, braying 
forth the souls of thousand heroes from his brazen trump? 
But still more efficacious, perhaps, in ministering to the light 
spirits of the band, was the consoling thought, that should the 
ship ever go into action, they would be exempted from the 
perils of battle. In ships of war, the members of the “ music,” 
as the band is called, are generally non-combatants ; and 
mostly ship, with the express understanding, that as soon as 
the vessel comes within long gun-shot of an enemy, they shall 
have the privilege of burrowing down in the cable-tiers, or 
sea coal-hole. Which shows that they are inglorious, but 
uncommonly sensible fellows. 

Look at the barons of the gun-room — Lieutenants, Purser, 
Marine officers, Sailing-master — all of them gentlemen with 
stiff upper lips, and aristocratic cut noses. Why was this ? 
Will any one deny, that from their living so long in high 
military life, served by a crowd of menial stewards and cot- 
boys, and always accustomed to command right and left; 
will any one deny, I say, that by reason of this, their very 
noses had become thin, peaked, aquiline, and aristocratically 
cartilaginous ? Even old Cuticle, the Surgeon, had a Roman 
nose. 

But I never could account how it came to be, that our 
gray-headed First Lieutenant was a little lop-sided ; that is, 
one of his shoulders disproportionately drooped. And when I 
observed, that nearly all the First Lieutenants I saw in other 
men-of-war, besides many Second and Third Lieutenants, 
were similarly lop-sided ; I knew, that there must be some 
general law which induced the phenomenon ; and I put myself 
to studying it out, as an interesting problem. At last, I came 
to the conclusion — to which I still adhere — that their so long 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR 


63 


wearing only one epaulet (for to only one does their rank en- 
title them) was the infallible clew to this mystery. And when 
any one reflects upon so well-known a fact, that many sea 
Lieutenants grow decrepit from age, without attaining a Cap- 
taincy and wearing two epaulets, which would strike the bal- 
ance between their shoulders, the above reason assigned will 
not appear unwarrantable. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB. 

The allusion to the poet Lemsford in a previous chapter, 
leads me to speak of our mutual friends, Nord and Williams, 
who, with Lemsford himself, Jack Chase, and my comrades 
of the main-top, comprised almost the only persons with whom 
I unreservedly consorted while on board the frigate. For I 
had not been long on board ere I found that it would not do 
to be intimate with every body. An indiscriminate intimacy 
with all hands leads to sundry annoyances and scrapes, too 
often ending with a dozen at the gang- way. Though I was 
above a year in the frigate, there were scores of men who to 
the last remained perfect strangers to me, whose very names 
I did not know, and whom I would hardly be able to recog- 
nize now should I happen to meet them in the streets. 

In the dog-watches at sea, during the early part of the 
evening, the main-deck is generally filled with crowds of pe- 
destrians, promenading up and down past the guns, like peo- 
ple taking the air in Broadway. At such times, it is curious 
to see the men nodding to each other’s recognitions (they 
might not have seen each other for a week) ; exchanging a 
pleasant word with a friend ; making a hurried appointment 
to meet him somewhere aloft on the morrow, or passing group 
after group without deigning the slightest salutation. Indeed, 
I was not at all singular in having but comparatively few ac- 
quaintances on board, though certainly carrying my fastidious- 
ness to an unusual extent. 

My friend Nord was a somewhat remarkable character ; 
and if mystery includes romance, he certainly was a very ro- 
mantic one. Before seeking an introduction to him through 
Lemsford, I had often marked his tall, spare, upright figure 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


65 


stalking like Don Quixote among the pigmies of the After- 
guard, to which he belonged. At first I found him exceed- 
ingly reserved and taciturn ; his saturnine brow wore a scowl ; 
he was almost repelling in his demeanor. In a word, he 
seemed desirous of hinting, that his list of man-of-war friends 
was already made up, complete, and full ; and there was no 
room for more. But observing that the only man he ever 
consorted with was Lemsford, I had too much magnanimity, 
by going off in a pique at his coldness, to let him lose forever 
the chance of making so capital an acquaintance as myself. 
Besides, I saw it in his eye, that the man had been a reader 
of good books ; I would have staked my life on it, that he 
seized the right meaning of Montaigne. I saw that he was 
an earnest thinker ; I more than suspected that he had been 
bolted in the mill of adversity. For all these things, my heart 
yearned toward him ; I determined to know him. 

At last I succeeded ; it was during a profoundly quiet mid- 
night watch, when I perceived him walking alone in the waist, 
while most of the men were dozing on the carronade-slides. 

That night we scoured all the prairies of reading ; dived 
into the bosoms of authors, and tore out their hearts ; and 
that night White- Jacket learned more than he has ever done 
in any single night since. 

The man was a marvel. He amazed me, as much as Cole- 
ridge did the troopers among whom he enlisted. What could 
have induced such a man to enter a man-of-war, all my sa- 
pience can not fathom. And how he managed to preserve 
his dignity, as he did, among such a rabble rout was equally 
a mystery. For he was no sailor ; as ignorant of a ship, in- 
deed, as a man from the sources of the Niger. Yet the offi- 
cers respected him ; and the men were afraid of him. This 
much was observable, however, that he faithfully discharged 
whatever special duties devolved upon him ; and was so for- 
tunate as never to render himself liable to a reprimand. 
Doubtless, he took the same view of the thing that another 
of the crew did ; and had early resolved, so to conduct him- 


66 


WHITE-JACKET. 


self as never to run the risk of the scourge. And this it must 
have been — added to whatever incommunicable grief which 
might have been his — that made this Nord such a wandering 
recluse, even among our man-of-war mob. Nor could he have 
long swung his hammock on board, ere he must have found 
that, to insure his exemption from that thing which alone af- 
frighted him, he must be content for the most part to turn a 
man-hater, and socially expatriate himself from many things, 
which might have rendered his situation more tolerable. Still 
more, several events that took place must have horrified him, 
at times, with the thought that, however he might isolate 
and entomb himself, yet for all this, the improbability of his 
being overtaken by what he most dreaded never advanced to 
the infallibility of the impossible. 

In my intercourse with Nord, he never made allusion to 
his past career — a subject upon which most high-bred cast- 
aways in a man-of-war are very diffuse ; relating their ad- 
ventures at the gaming-table ; the recklessness with which 
they have run through the amplest fortunes in a single season : 
their alms-givings, and gratuities to porters and poor relations ; 
and above all, their youthful indiscretions, and the broken- 
hearted ladies they have left behind. No such tales had Nord 
to tell. Concerning the past, he was barred and locked up 
like the specie vaults of the Bank of England. For any thing 
that dropped from him, none of us could be sure that he had 
ever existed till now. Altogether, he was a remarkable man. 

My other friend, Williams, was a thorough-going Yankee 
from Maine, who had been both a peddler and a pedagogue 
in his day. He had all manner of stories to tell about nice 
little country frolics, and would run over an endless list of his 
sweet-hearts. He was honest, acute, witty, full of mirth and 
good humor — a laughing philosopher. He was invaluable as 
a pill against the spleen ; and, with the view of extending the 
advantages of his society to the saturnine Nord, I introduced 
them to each other ; but Nord cut him dead the very same 
evening, when we sallied out from between the guns for a 
walk on the main-deck 


CHAPTER XIV. 


A DRAUGHT IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

We were not many days out of port, when a rumor was 
set afloat that dreadfully alarmed many tars. It was this : 
that, owing to some unprecedented oversight in the Purser, or 
some equally unprecedented remissness in the Naval-store- 
keeper at Callao, the frigate’s supply of that delectable bever- 
age, called “ grog,” was well-nigh expended. 

In the American Navy, the law allows one gill of spirits 
per day to every seaman. In two portions, it is served out 
just previous to breakfast and dinner. At the roll of the 
drum, the sailors assemble round a large tub, or cask, filled 
with the liquid ; and, as their names are called off by a mid- 
shipman, they step up and regale themselves from a little tin 
measure called a “tot.” No high-liver helping himself to 
Tokay off a well-polished side-board, smacks his lips with more 
mighty satisfaction than the sailor does over this tot. To 
many of them, indeed, the thought of their daily tots forms a 
perpetual perspective of ravishing landscapes, indefinitely re- 
ceding in the distance. It is their great “ prospect in life.” 
Take away their grog, and life possesses no further charms for 
them. It is hardly to be doubted, that the controlling in- 
ducement which keeps many men in the Navy, is the un- 
bounded confidence they have in the ability of the United 
States government to supply them, regularly and unfailingly, 
with their daily allowance of this beverage. I have known 
several forlorn individuals, shipping as landsmen, who have 
confessed to me, that having contracted a love for ardent spir- 
its, which they could not renounce, and having by their fool- 
ish courses been brought into the most abject poverty — inso- 


68 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


much that they could no longer gratify their thirst ashore 
— they incontinently entered the Navy ; regarding it as the 
asylum for all drunkards, who might there prolong their lives 
by regular hours and exercise, and twice every day quench 
their thirst by moderate and undeviating doses. 

When I once remonstrated with an old toper of a top-man 
about this daily dram-drinking ; when I told him it was ruin- 
ing him, and advised him to stop his grog and receive the 
money for it, in addition to his wages, as provided by law, he 
turned about on me, with an irresistibly waggish look, and 
said, “ Give up my grog ? And why ? Because it is ruin- 
ing me ? No, no ; I am a good Christian, White- Jacket, and 
love my enemy too much to drop his acquaintance.” 

It may be readily imagined, therefore, what consternation 
and dismay pervaded the gun-deck at the first announcement 
of the tidings that the grog was expended. 

“ The grog gone !” roared an old Sheet-anchor-man. 

“ Oh ! Lord ! what a pain in my stomach !” cried a Main- 
top-man. 

“ It’s worse than the Cholera !” cried a man of the After- 
guard. 

“I’d sooner the water-casks would give out !” said a Cap- 
tain of the Hold. 

“ Are we ganders and geese, that we can live without grog ?” 
asked a Corporal of Marines. 

“ Ay, we must now drink with the ducks !” cried a Quar- 
ter-master. 

“ Not a tot left ?” groaned a Waister. 

“ Not a toothful !” sighed a Holder, from the bottom of his 
boots. 

Yes, the fatal intelligence proved true. The drum was no 
longer heard rolling the men to the tub, and deep gloom and 
dejection fell like a cloud. The ship was like a great city, 
when some terrible calamity has overtaken it. The men 
stood apart, in groups, discussing their woes, and mutually 
condoling. No longer, of still moon-light nights, was the song 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


69 


heard from the giddy tops ; and few and far between were the 
stories that were told. 

It was during this interval, so dismal to many, that, to the 
amazement of all hands, ten men were reported by the mas- 
ter-at-arms to be intoxicated. They were brought up to the 
mast, and at their appearance the doubts of the most skeptic- 
al were dissipated ; but whence they had obtained their liquor 
no one could tell. It was observed, however, at the time, that 
the tarry knaves all smelled of lavender, like so many dandies. 

After their examination they were ordered into the “ brig,” 
a jail-house between two guns on the main-deck, where pris- 
oners are kept. Here they laid for some time, stretched out 
stark and stiff, with their arms folded over their breasts, like 
so many effigies of the Black Prince on his monument in Can- 
terbury Cathedral. 

Their first slumbers over, the marine sentry who stood guard 
over them had as much as he could do to keep off the crowd, 
who were all eagerness to find out how, in such a time of 
want, the prisoners had managed to drink themselves into ob- 
livion. In due time they were liberated, and the secret si- 
multaneously leaked out. 

It seemed that an enterprising man of their number, who 
had suffered severely from the common deprivation, had all 
at once been struck by a brilliant idea. It had come to his 
knowledge that the purser’s steward was supplied with a large 
quantity of Eau-de-Cologne , clandestinely brought out in the 
ship, for the purpose of selling it, on his own account, to the 
people of the coast ; but the supply proving larger than the 
demand, and having no customers on board the frigate but 
Lieutenant Selvagee, he was now carrying home more than a 
third of his original stock. To make a short story of it, this 
functionary, being called upon in secret, was readily prevailed 
upon to part with a dozen bottles, with whose contents the 
intoxicated party had regaled themselves. 

The news spread far and wide among the men, being only 
kept secret from the officers and underlings, and that night 


/ 


70 


WHITE-JACKET. 


the long, crane-necked Cologne bottles jingled in out-of-the-way 
comers and by-places, and, being emptied, were sent flying 
out of the ports. With brown sugar, taken from the mess- 
chests, and hot water begged from the galley-cooks, the men 
made all manner of punches, toddies, and cocktails, letting fall 
therein a small drop of tar, like a bit of brown toast, by way 
of imparting a flavor. Of course, the thing was managed 
with the utmost secrecy ; and as a whole dark night elapsed 
after their orgies, the revelers were, in a good measure, secure 
from detection ; and those who indulged too freely had twelve 
long hours to get sober before daylight obtruded. 

Next day, fore and aft, the whole frigate smelled like a la- 
dy’s toilet ; the very tar-buckets were fragrant ; and from 
the mouth of many a grim, grizzled old quarter-gunner came 
the most fragrant of breaths. The amazed Lieutenants went 
about snuffing up the gale ; and, for once, Selvagee had no 
further need to flourish his perfumed handkerchief. It was 
as if we were sailing by some odoriferous shore, in the vernal 
season of violets. Sabaean odors ! 

“ For many a league, 

Cheered with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiled.” 

But, alas ! all this perfume could not be wasted for noth- 
ing ; and the masters-at-arms and ship’s corporals, putting 
this and that together, very soon burrowed into the secret. 
The purser’s steward was called to account, and no more lav- 
ender punches and Cologne toddies were drank on board the 
Neversink. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A SALT- JUNK CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH A NOTICE TO QUIT. 

It was about the period of the Cologne-water excitement 
that my self-conceit was not a little wounded., and my sense 
of delicacy altogether shocked, by a polite hint received from 
the cook of the mess to which I happened to belong. To un- 
derstand the matter, it is needful to enter into preliminaries. 

The common seamen in a large frigate are divided into 
some thirty or forty messes, put down on the purser’s books as 
Mess No. 1, Mess No. 2, Mess No. 3, &e. The members of 
each mess club their rations of provisions, and breakfast, dine, 
and sup together in allotted intervals between the guns on the 
main-deck. In undeviating rotation, the members of each 
mess (excepting the petty-officers) take their turn in perform- 
ing the functions of cook and steward. And for the time be- 
ing, all the affairs of the club are subject to their inspection 
and control. 

It is the cook’s business, also, to have an eye to the general 
interests of his mess ; to see that, when the aggregated allow- 
ances of beef, bread, &c., are served out by one of the master’s 
mates, the mess over which he presides receives its full share, 
without stint or subtraction. Upon the berth-deck he has a 
chest, in which to keep his pots, pans, spoons, and small stores 
of sugar, molasses, tea, and flour. 

But though entitled a cook, strictly speaking, the head of 
the mess is no cook at all ; for the cooking for the crew is all 
done by a high and mighty functionary, officially called the 
11 ship’s cooled assisted by several deputies. In our frigate, 
this personage was a dignified colored gentleman, whom the 
men dubbed “ Old Coffee and his assistants, negroes also, 


72 


WHIT E-J ACKBT; OR, 


went by the poetical appellations of “ Sunshine” “ Rose 
ivater” and “ May-day.” 

Now the ship's cooking required very little science, though 
old Coffee often assured us that he had graduated at the New 
York Astor House, under the immediate eye of the celebrated 
Coleman and Stetson. All he had to do was, in the first 
place, to keep bright and clean the three huge coppers, or 
caldrons, in which many hundred pounds of beef were daily 
boiled. To this end, Rose-water, Sunshine, and May-day 
every morning sprang into their respective apartments, strip- 
ped to the waist, and well provided with bits of soap-stone 
and sand. By exercising these in a very vigorous manner, 
they threw themselves into a violent perspiration, and put a 
fine polish upon the interior of the coppers. 

Sunshine was the bard of the trio ; and while all three 
would be busily employed clattering their soap-stones against 
the metal, he would exhilarate them with some remarkable 
St. Domingo melodies ; one of which was the following : 

“ Oh ! I los’ my shoe in an old canoe, 

Johnio ! come Winum so ! 

Oh ! I los’ my boot in a pilot-boat, 

Johnio! come Winum so! 

Den rub-a-dub de copper, oh ! 

Oh ! copper rub-a-dub-a-oh !” 

When I listened to these jolly Africans, thus making glee- 
ful their toil by their cheering songs, I could not help mur- 
muring against that immemorial rule of men-of-war, which 
forbids the sailors to sing out, as in merchant-vessels, when 
pulling ropes, or occupied at any other ship’s duty. Your 
only music, at such times, is the shrill pipe of the boatswain’s 
mate, which is almost worse than no music at all. And if 
the boatswain’s mate is not by, you must pull the ropes, like 
convicts, in profound silence ; or else endeavor to impart unity 
to the exertions of all hands, by singing out mechanically, one , 
two, three, and then pulling all together. 

Now, when Sunshine, Rose-water, and May-day have so 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


73 


polished the ship’s coppers, that a white kid glove might he 
drawn along the inside and show no stain, they leap out of 
their holes, and the water is poured in for the coffee. And 
the coffee being boiled, and decanted off in buckets’ full, the 
cooks of the messes march up with their salt beef for dinner, 
strung upon strings and tallied with labels ; all of which are 
plunged together into the self-same coppers, and there boiled. 
When, upon the beef being fished out with a huge pitch-fork, 
the water for the evening’s tea is poured in ; which, conse- 
quently, possesses a flavor not unlike that of shank-soup. 

From this it will be seen, that, so far as cooking is con- 
cerned, a “ cook of the mess ” has very little to do ; merely 
carrying his provisions to and from the grand democratic 
cookery. Still, in some things, his office involves many an- 
noyances. Twice a week butter and cheese are served out — 
so much to each man — and the mess-cook has the sole charge 
of these delicacies. The great difficulty consists in so cater- 
ing for the mess, touching these luxuries, as to satisfy all. 
Some guzzlers are for devouring the butter at a meal, and 
finishing off with the cheese the same day ; others contend 
for saving it up against Banyan Bay , when there is nothing 
but beef and bread ; and others, again, are for taking a very 
small bit of butter and cheese, by way of dessert, to each and 
every meal through the week. All this gives rise to endless 
disputes, debates, and altercations. 

Sometimes, with his mess-cloth — a square of painted can- 
vas — set out on deck between the guns, garnished with pots, 
and pans, and kids , you see the mess-cook seated on a match- 
tub at its head, his trowser legs rolled up and arms bared, 
presiding over the convivial party. 

“ Now, men, you can’t have any butter to-day. I’m sav- 
ing it up for to-morrow. You don’t know the value of but- 
ter, men. You, Jim, take your hoof off the cloth ! Devil 
take me, if some of you chaps haven’t no more manners than 
so many swines ! Quick, men, quick ; bear a hand, and 
' scoff ’ (eat) away. — I’ve got my to-morrow’s duff to make 

D 


74 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


yet, and some of you fellows keep scoffing as if I had nothing 
to do hut sit still here on this here tub here, and look on. 
There, there, men, you’ve all had enough ; so sail away out 
of this, and let me clear up the wreck.” 

In this strain would one of the periodical cooks of mess 
No. 15 talk to us. He was a tall, resolute fellow, who had 
once been a breakman on a rail-road, and he kept us all 
pretty straight ; from his fiat there was no appeal. 

But it was not thus when the turn came to others among 
us. Then it was, look out for squalls. The business of 
dining became a bore, and digestion was seriously impaired 
by the unamiable discourse we had over our salt horse. 

I sometimes thought that the junks of lean pork — which 
were boiled in their own bristles, and looked gaunt and grim, 
like pickled chins of half-famished, unwashed Cossacks — had 
something to do with creating the bristling bitterness at times 
prevailing in our mess. The men tore off the tough hide from 
their pork, as if they were Indians scalping Christians. 

Some cursed the cook for a rogue, who kept from us our 
butter and cheese, in order to make away with it himself in 
an underhand manner ; selling it at a premium to other 
messes, and thus accumulating a princely fortune at our 
expense. Others anathematized him for his slovenliness, 
casting hypercritical glances into Their pots and pans, and 
scraping them with their knives. Then he would be railed 
at for his miserable “ duffs,” and other short-coming prepa- 
rations. 

Marking all this from the beginning, I, White-Jacket, was 
sorely troubled with the idea, that, in the course of time, my 
own turn would come round to undergo the same objurga- 
tions. How to escape, I knew not. However, when the 
dreaded period arrived, I received the keys of office (the keys 
of the mess-chest) with a resigned temper, and offered up a 
devout ejaculation for fortitude under the trial. I resolved, 
please Heaven, to approve myself an unexceptionable caterer, 
and the most impartial of stewards. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


75 


The first day there was “ duff ” to make — a business 
which devolved upon the mess-cooks, though the boiling of it 
pertained to Old Coffee and his deputies. I made up my 
mind to lay myself out on that duff ; to centre all my ener- 
gies upon it ; to put the very soul of art into it, and achieve 
an unrivaled duff— a duff that should put out of conceit all 
other duffs , and forever make my administration memorable. 

From the proper functionary the flour was obtained, and 
the raisins ; the beef-fat, or “slush,” from Old Coffee ; and 
the requisite supply of water from the scuttle-butt. I then 
went among the various cooks, to compare their receipts for 
making “ duffs and having well weighed them all, and 
gathered from each a choice item to make an original receipt 
of my own, with due deliberation and solemnity I proceeded 
to business. Placing the component parts in a tin pan, I 
kneaded them together for an hour, entirely reckless as to 
pulmonary considerations, touching the ruinous expenditure 
of breath ; and having decanted the semi-liquid dough into a 
canvas-bag, secured the muzzle, tied on the talley, and deliv- 
ered it to Hose- water, who dropped the precious bag into the 
coppers, along with a score or two of others. 

Eight bells had struck. The boatswain and his mates 
had piped the hands to dinner ; my mess-cloth was set out, 
and my messmates were assembled, knife in hand, all ready 
to precipitate themselves upon the devoted duff. Waiting 
at the grand cookery till my turn came, I received the bag 
of pudding, and gallanting it into the mess, proceeded to loosen 
the string. 

It was an anxious, I may say, a fearful moment. My hands 
trembled ; every eye was upon me ; my reputation and credit 
were at stake. Slowly I undressed the duff, dandling it upon 
my knee, much as a nurse does a baby about bed-time. The 
excitement increased, as I curled down the bag from the pud- 
ding ; it became intense, when at last I plumped it into the 
pan, held up to receive it by an eager hand. Bim ! it fell 
like a man shot down in a riot. Distraction ! It was harder 


76 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


than a sinner’s heart ; yea, tough as the cock that crowed on 
the morn that Peter told a lie. 

“ Gentlemen of the mess, for heaven’s sake ! permit me one 
word. I have done my duty by that duff — I have — ” 

But they beat down my excuses with a storm of crimina- 
tions. One present proposed that the fatal pudding should be 
tied round my neck, like a mill-stone, and myself pushed over- 
board. No use, no use ; I had failed ; ever after, that duff 
lay heavy at my stomach and my heart. 

After this, I grew desperate ; despised popularity ; returned 
scorn for scorn ; till at length my week expired, and in the 
duff-bag I transferred the keys of office to the next man on 
the roll. 

Somehow, there had never been a very cordial feeling be- 
tween this mess and me ; all along they had nourished a prej- 
udice against my white jacket. They must have harbored 
the silly fancy that in it I gave myself airs, and wore it in or- 
der to look consequential ; perhaps, as a cloak to cover pilfer- 
ings of tit-bits from the mess. But to out with the plain truth, 
they themselves were not a very irreproachable set. Consid- 
ering the sequel I am coming to, this avowal may be deemed 
sheer malice ; but for all that, I can not avoid speaking my 
mind. 

After my week of office, the mess gradually changed their 
behavior to me ; they cut me to the heart ; they became cold 
and reserved ; seldom or never addressed me at meal-times, 
without invidious allusions to my duff \ and also to my jacket, 
anti its dripping in wet weather upon the mess-cloth. How- 
ever, I had no idea that any thing serious, on their part, was 
brewing ; but alas ! so it turned out. 

We were assembled at supper one evening, when I noticed 
certain winks and silent hints tipped to the cook, who presid- 
ed. He was a little, oily fellow, who had once kept an oys- 
ter-cellar ashore ; he bore me a grudge. Looking down on 
the mess-cloth, he observed that some fellows never knew 
when their room was better than their company. This being 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


77 


a maxim of indiscriminate application, of course I silently as- 
sented to it, as any other reasonable man would have done. 
But this remark was followed up by another, to the effect that, 
not only did some fellows never know when their room was 
better than their company, but they persisted in staying when 
their company wasn’t wanted ; and by so doing disturbed the 
serenity of society at large. But this, also, was a general ob- 
servation that could not be gainsayed. A long and ominous 
pause ensued ; during which I perceived every eye upon me, 
and my white jacket ; while the cook went on to enlarge upon 
the disagreeableness of a perpetually damp garment in the 
mess, especially when that garment was white. This was 
coming nearer home. 

Yes, they were going to black-ball me ; but I resolved to 
sit it out a little longer ; never dreaming that my moralist 
would proceed to extremities, while all hands were present. 
But bethinking him that by going this roundabout way he 
would never get at his object, he went off on another tack ; 
apprising me, in substance, that he was instructed by the whole 
mess, then and there assembled, to give me warning to seek 
out another club, as they did not longer fancy the society either 
of myself or my jacket. 

I was shocked. Such a want of tact and delicacy ! Com 
mon propriety suggested that a point-blank intimation of that 
nature should be conveyed in a private interview; or, still 
better, by note. I immediately rose, tucked my jacket about 
me, bowed, and departed. 

And now, to do myself justice, I must add that, the next 
day, I was received with open arms by a glorious set of fel- 
lows — mess No. 1 ! — numbering, among the rest, my noble 
Captain Jack Chase. 

This mess was principally composed of the headmost men 
of the gun-deck ; and, out of a pardonable self-conceit, they 
called themselves the “ Forty-two-pounder Club meaning 
that they were, one and all, fellows of large intellectual and 
corporeal calibre. Their mess-cloth was well located. On 


rs 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


their starboard hand was Mess No. 2, embracing sundry rare 
jokers and high livers, who waxed gay and epicurean over 
their salt fare, and were known as the “ Society for the Destruc- 
tion of Beef and Fork.” On the larboard hand was Mess 
No. 31, made up entirely of fore-top-men, a dashing, blaze- 
away set. of men-of-war’s-men, who called themselves the 
“ Cape Horn Snorters and Never sink Invincibles .” Op- 
posite, was one of the marine messes, mustering the aristocracy 
of the marine corps — the two corporals, the drummer and 
fifer, and some six or eight rather gentlemanly privates, native- 
born Americans, who had served in the Seminole campaigns 
of Florida ; and they now enlivened their salt fare with stories 
of wild ambushes in the everglades ; and one of them related 
a surprising tale of his hand-to-hand encounter with Osceola, 
the Indian chief, whom he fought one morning from daybreak 
till breakfast time. This slashing private also boasted that 
he could take a chip from between your teeth at twenty paces ; 
he offered to bet any amount on it ; and as he could get no 
one to hold the chip, his boast remained forever good. 

Besides many other attractions which the Forty-two-pound- 
er Club furnished, it had this one special advantage, that, owing 
to there being so many petty officers in it, all the members of 
the mess were exempt from doing duty as cooks and stewards. 
A fellow called a steady-cook , attended to that business during 
the entire cruise. He was a long, lank, pallid varlet, going 
by the name of Shanks. In very warm weather this Shanks 
would sit at the foot of the mess-cloth, fanning himself with 
the front flap of his frock or shirt, which he inelegantly wore 
over his trowsers. Jack Chase, the President of the Club, 
frequently remonstrated against this breach of good manners ; 
but the steady-cook had somehow contracted the habit, and 
it proved incurable. For a time, Jack Chase, out of a polite 
nervousness touching myself, as a newly-elected member of the 
club, would frequently endeavor to excuse to me the vulgarity 
of Shanks. One day he wound up his remarks by the philo 
sophic reflection — “ But White- Jacket, my dear fellow, what 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


79 


can you expect of him ? Our real misfortune is, that our no- 
ble club should be obliged to dine with its cook.” 

There were several of these steady-cooks, on board ; men of 
no mark or consideration whatever in the ship ; lost to all no- 
ble promptings ; sighing for no worlds to conquer, and perfect- 
ly contented with mixing their duffs , and spreading their 
mess-cloths, and mustering their pots and pans together three 
times every day for a three years’ cruise. They were very sel- 
dom to be seen on the spar-deck, but kept below out of sight. 








CHAPTER XVI. 


GENERAL TRAINING IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

To a quiet, contemplative character, averse to uproar, un- 
due exercise of his bodily members, and all kind of useless 
confusion, nothing can be more distressing than a proceeding 
in all men-of-war called “ general quarters , .” And well may 
it be so called, since it amounts to a general drawing and 
quartering of all the parties concerned. 

As the specific object for which a man-of-war is built and 
put into commission is to fight and fire off cannon, it is, of 
course, deemed indispensable that the crew should be duly in- 
structed in the art and mystery involved. Hence these “ gen- 
eral quarters,” which is a mustering of all hands to their sta- 
tions at the guns on the several decks, and a sort of sham-fight 
with an imaginary foe. 

The summons is given by the ship’s drummer, who strikes 
a peculiar beat — short, broken, rolling, shuffling — like the 
sound made by the march into battle of iron-heeled grenadiers. 
It is a regular tune, with a fine song composed to it ; the 
words of the chorus, being most artistically arranged, may 
give some idea of the air : 

“ Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men, 

We always are ready, steady, boys, steady, 

To fight and to conquer, again and again.” 

In warm weather this pastime at the guns is exceedingly 
unpleasant, to say the least, and throws a quiet man into a vio- 
lent passion and perspiration. For one, I ever abominated it. 

I have a heart like Julius Csesar, and upon occasion would 
fight like Caius Marcius Coriolanus. If my beloved and for- 
ever glorious country should be ever in jeopardy from invaders. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


81 


let Congress put me on a war-horse, in the van-guard, and 
then see how I will acquit myself. But to toil and sweat in 
a fictitious encounter ; to squander the precious breath of my 
precious body in a ridiculous fight of shams and pretensions ; 
to hurry about the decks, pretending to carry the killed and 
wounded below ; to be told that I must consider the ship 
blowing up, in order to exercise myself in presence of mind, 
and prepare for a real explosion ; all this I despise, as beneath 
a true tar and man of valor. 

These were my sentiments at the time, and these remain 
my sentiments still ; but as, while on board the frigate, my 
liberty of thought did not extend to liberty of expression, I 
was obliged to keep these sentiments to myself; though, in- 
deed, I had some thoughts of addressing a letter, marked Pri- 
vate and Confidential, to his Honor the Commodore, on the 
subject. 

My station at the batteries was at one of the thirty-two- 
pound carronades, on the starboard side of the quarter-deck.* 

I did not fancy this station at all ; for it is well known on 
shipboard that, in time of action, the quarter-deck is one of the 

* For the benefit of a Quaker reader here and there, a word or two 
in explanation of a carronade may not be amiss. The carronade is a 
gnn comparatively short and light for its calibre. A carronade throw- 
ing a thirty-two-pound shot weighs considerably less than a long-gun 
only throwing a twenty -four-pound shot. It further differs from a long- 
gun, in working with a joint and bolt underneath, instead of the short 
arms or trunnions at the sides. Its carriage, likewise, is quite differ- 
ent from that of a long-gun, having a sort of sliding apparatus, some- 
thing like an extension dining-table; the goose on it, however, is a 
tough one, and villainously stuffed with most indigestible dumplings. 
Point-blank, the range of a carronade does not exceed one hundred and 
fifty yards, much less than the range of a long-gun. When of large cal- 
ibre, however, it throws within that limit, Paixhan shot, all manner of 
shells and combustibles, with great effect, being a very destructive en- 
gine at close quarters. This piece is now very generally found mount- 
ed in the batteries of the English and American navies. The quarter- 
deck armaments of most modem frigates wholly consist of carronades. 
The name is derived from the village of Carron, in Scotland, at whose 
celebrated founderies this iron Attila was first cast. 


82 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


most dangerous posts of a man-of-war. The reason is, that 
the officers of the highest rank are there stationed ; and the 
enemy have an ungentlemanly way of target-shooting at their 
buttons. If we should chance to engage a ship, then, who 
could tell hut some bungling small-arm marksman in the en- 
emy’s tops might put a bullet through me instead of the Com- 
modore ? If they hit him , no doubt he would not feel it 
much, for he was used to that sort of thing, and, indeed, had 
a bullet in him already. Whereas, I was altogether unac- 
customed to having blue pills playing round my head in such 
an indiscriminate way. Besides, ours was a flag-ship ; and 
every one knows what a peculiarly dangerous predicament the 
quarter-deck of Nelson’s flag-ship was in at the battle of Traf- 
algar ; how the lofty tops of the enemy were full of soldiers, 
peppering away at the English Admiral and his officers. 
Many a poor sailor, at the guns of that quarter-deck, must 
have received a bullet intended for some wearer of an epaulet. 

By candidly confessing my feelings on this subject, I do by 
no means invalidate my claims to being held a man of pro- 
digious valor. I merely state my invincible repugnance to 
being shot for somebody else. If I am shot, be it with the 
express understanding in the shooter that I am the identical 
person intended so to be served. That Thracian who, with 
his compliments, sent an arrow into the King of Macedon, su- 
perscribed “ For Philip’s right eye ,” set a fine example to all 
warriors. The hurried, hasty, indiscriminate, reckless, aban- 
doned manner in which both sailors and soldiers nowadays 
fight is really painful to any serious-minded, methodical old 
gentleman, especially if he chance to have systematized his 
mind as an accountant. There is little or no skill and brav- 
ery about it. Two parties, armed with lead and old iron, en- 
velop themselves in a cloud of smoke, and pitch their lead 
and old iron about in all directions. If you happen to be in 
the way, you are hit ; possibly, killed ; if not, you escape. In 
sea-actions, if by good or bad luck, as the case may be, a round 
shot, fired at random through the smoke, happens to send over- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


83 


board your fore-mast, another to unship your rudder, there 
you lie crippled, pretty much at the mercy of your foe ; who, 
accordingly, pronounces himself victor, though that honor 
properly belongs to the Law of Gravitation operating on the 
enemy’s balls in the smoke. Instead of tossing this old lead 
and iron into the air, therefore, it would be much better am- 
icably to toss up a copper and let heads win. 

The carronade at which I was stationed was known as 
“ Gun No. 5,” on the First Lieutenant’s quarter-bill. Among 
our gun’s crew, however, it was known as Black Bet. This 
name was bestowed by the captain of the gun — a fine negro 
— in honor of his sweet-heart, a colored lady of Philadelphia. 
Of Black Bet I was rammer-and-sponger ; and ram and 
sponge I did, like a good fellow. I have no doubt that, had 
I and my gun been at the battle of the Nile, we would mutu- 
ally have immortalized ourselves; the ramming-pole would 
have been hung up in Westminster Abbey ; and I, ennobled 
by the king, besides receiving the illustrious honor of an auto- 
graph letter from his majesty through the perfumed right hand 
of his private secretary. 

But it was terrible work to help run in and out of the port- 
hole that amazing mass of metal, especially as the thing must 
be done in a trice. Then, at the summons of a horrid, rasp- 
ing rattle, swayed by the Captain in person, we were made 
to rush from our guns, seize pikes and pistols, and repel an 
imaginary army of boarders, who, by a fiction of the officers, 
were supposed to be assailing all sides of the ship at once. 
After cutting and slashing at them a while, we jumped back 
to our guns, and again went to jerking our elbows. 

Meantime, a loud cry is heard of “ Fire ! fire ! fire !” in the 
fore-top ; and a regular engine, worked by a set of Bowery- 
boy tars, is forthwith set to playing streams of water aloft. 
And now it is “ Fire ! fire ! fire !” on the main-deck ; and the 
entire ship is in as great a commotion as if a whole city ward 
were in a blaze. 

Are our officers of the Navy utterly unacquainted with the 


84 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


laws of good health ? Do they not know that this violent 
exercise, taking place just after a hearty dinner, as it gener- 
ally does, is eminently calculated to breed the dyspepsia ? 
There was no satisfaction in dining ; the flavor of every mouth- 
ful was destroyed by the thought that the next moment the 
cannonading drum might be beating to quarters. 

Such a sea-martinet was our Captain, that sometimes we 
were roused from our hammocks at night ; when a scene would 
ensue that it is not in the power of pen and ink to describe. 
Five hundred men spring to their feet, dress themselves, take 
up their bedding, and run to the nettings and stow it ; then 
hie to their stations — each man jostling his neighbor — some 
alow, some aloft ; some this way, some that ; and in less than 
live minutes the frigate is ready for action, and still as the 
grave ; almost every man precisely where he would be were 
an enemy actually about to be engaged. The Gunner, like 
a Cornwall miner in a cave, is burrowing dowm in the maga- 
zine under the Ward-room, which is lighted by battle-lan- 
terns, placed behind glazed glass bull’s-eyes inserted in the 
bulkhead . The powder-monkeys, or boys, who fetch and carry 
cartridges, are scampering to and fro among the guns ; and the 
first and second loaders stand ready to receive their supplies. 

These Powder-monkeys, as they are called, enact a curious 
part in time of action. The entrance to the magazine on the 
berth-deck, where they procure their food for the guns, is 
guarded by a woolen screen ; and a gunner’s mate, standing 
behind it, thrusts out the cartridges through a small arm-hole 
in this screen. The enemy’s shot (perhaps red hot) are fly- 
ing in all directions ; and to protect their cartridges, the pow- 
der-monkeys hurriedly wrap them up in their jackets ; and 
with all haste scramble up the ladders to their respective 
guns, like eating-house waiters hurrying along with hot cakes 
for breakfast. 

At general quarters the shot-boxes are uncovered ; show- 
ing the grape-shot — aptly so called, for they precisely resem- 
ble bunches of the fruit ; though, to receive a bunch of iron 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


85 


grapes in the abdomen would he hut a sorry dessert ; and also 
showing the canister-shot — old iron of various sorts, packed in 
a tin case, like a tea-caddy. 

Imagine some midnight craft sailing down on her enemy 
thus ; twenty-four pounders leveled, matches lighted, and each 
captain of his gun at his post ! 

But if verily going into action, then would the Neversink 
have made still further preparations ; for however alike in 
some things, there is always a vast difference — if you sound 
them — between a reality and a sham. Not to speak of the 
pale sternness of the men at their guns at such a juncture, and 
the choked thoughts at their hearts, the ship itself would here 
and there present a far different appearance. Something like 
that of an extensive mansion preparing for a grand entertain- 
ment, when folding-doors are withdrawn, chambers converted 
into drawing-rooms, and every inch of available space thrown 
into one continuous whole. For previous to an action, every 
bulk-head in a man-of-war is knocked down ; great guns are 
run out of the Commodore’s parlor windows ; nothing separ- 
ates the ward-room officers’ quarters from those of the men, 
but an ensign used for a curtain. The sailors’ mess-chests are 
tumbled down into the hold ; and the hospital cots — of which 
all men-of-war carry a large supply — are dragged forth from 
the sail-room, and piled near at hand to receive the wounded ; 
amputation-tables are ranged in the cock-pit or in the tiers, 
whereon to carve the bodies of the maimed. The yards are 
slung in chains ; fire-screens distributed here and there ; hil- 
locks of cannon-balls piled between the guns ; shot-plugs sus- 
pended within easy reach from the beams ; and solid masses 
of wads, big as Dutch cheeses, braced to the cheeks of the gun- 
carriages. 

No small difference, also, would be visible in the ward-robe 
of both officers and men. The officers generally fight as dan- 
dies dance, namely, in silk stockings ; inasmuch as, in case of 
being wounded in the leg, the silk-hose can be more easily 
drawn off by the Surgeon ; cotton sticks, and works into the 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


wound. An economical captain, while taking care to case his 
legs in silk, might yet see fit to save his best suit, and fight in 
his old clothes. For, besides that an old garment might much 
better he cut to pieces than a new one, it must he a might} 
disagreeable thing to die in a stiff tight-breasted coat, not yet 
worked easy under the armpits. At such times, a man 
should feel free, unencumbered, and perfectly at his ease in 
point of straps and suspenders. No ill-will concerning his 
tailor, should intrude upon his thoughts of eternity. Seneca 
understood this, when he chose to die naked in a hath. And 
men-of-war’s-men understand it, also ; for most of them, in 
battle, strip to the waist-hands ; wearing nothing hut a pair 
of duck trowsers, and a handkerchief round their head. 

A captain combining a heedful patriotism with economy, 
would probably “bend” his old topsails before going into bat- 
tle, instead of exposing his best canvass to he riddled to pieces ; 
for it is generally the case that the enemy’s shot flies high. 
Unless allowance is made for it in pointing the tube, at long- 
gun distance, the slightest roll of the ship, at the time of fir- 
ing, would send a shot, meant for the hull, high over the top- 
gallant yards. 

But besides these differences between a sham-fight at gen- 
eral quarters, and a real cannonading, the aspect of the ship, 
at the heating of the retreat, would, in the latter case, be 
very dissimilar to the neatness and uniformity in the former. 

Then our bulwarks might look like the walls of the houses 
in West Broadway in New York, after being broken into and 
burned out by the Negro Mob. Our stout masts and yards 
might he lying about decks, like tree houghs after a tornado 
in a piece of woodland ; our dangling ropes, cut and sundered 
in all directions, would he bleeding tar at every yarn ; and 
strewn with jagged splinters from our wounded planks, the 
gun-deck might resemble a carpenter’s shop. Then , when 
all was over, and all hands would he piped to take down the 
hammocks from the exposed nettings (where th*ey play the 
part of the cotton hales at New Orleans), we might find bits 


8? 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

of broken shot, iron bolts, and bullets in our blankets. And, 
while smeared with blood like butchers, the surgeon and his 
mates would be amputating arms and legs on the berth-deck, 
an underling of the carpenter’s gang would be new-legging 
and arming the broken chairs and tables in the Commodore’s 
cabin ; while the rest of his squad would be splicing and. fish- 
ing the shattered masts and yards. The scupper-holes hav- 
ing discharged the last rivulet of blood, the decks would be 
washed down ; and the galley-cooks would be going fore and 
aft, sprinkling them with hot vinegar, to take out the sham- 
bles’ smell from the planks ; which, unless some such means 
are employed, often create a highly offensive effluvia for weeks 
after a fight. 

Then, upon mustering the men, and calling the quarter- 
bills by the light of a battle-lantern, many a wounded seaman, 
with his arm in a sling, would answer for some poor shipmate 
who could never more make answer for himself : 

“ Tom Brown ?” 

“ Killed, sir.” 

“ Jack Jewel ?” 

“ Killed, sir.” 

“Joe Hardy?” 

“ Killed, sir.” 

And opposite all these poor fellows’ names, down would go 
on the quarter-bills the bloody marks of red ink — a murderer’s 
fluid, fitly used on these occasions. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

AWAY ! SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH CUTTERS, AWAY ! 

It was the morning succeeding one of these general quar- 
ters, that we picked up a life-buoy, descried floating by. 

It was a circular mass of cork, about eight inches thick and 
four feet in diameter, covered with tarred canvas. All round 
its circumference there trailed a number of knotted ropes’ -ends, 
terminating in fanciful Turks’ heads. These were the life- 
lines, for the drowning to clutch. Inserted into the middle of 
the cork was an upright, carved pole, somewhat shorter than 
a pike-staff. The whole buoy was embossed with barnacles, 
and its sides festooned with sea-weed. Dolphins were sport- 
ing and flashing around it, and one white bird was hovering 
over the top of the pole. Long ago, this thing must have 
been thrown overboard to save some poor wretch, who must 
have been drowned ; while even the life-buoy itself had drift- 
ed away out of sight. 

The forecastle- men fished it up from the bows, and the sea- 
men thronged round it. 

“Bad luck ! bad luck !” cried the Captain of the Head ; 
“ we’ll number one less before long.” 

The ship’s cooper strolled by : he, to whose department it 
belongs to see that the ship’s life-buoys are kept in good order. 

In men-of-war, night and day, week in and week out, two 
life-buoys are kept depending from the stern ; and two men, 
with hatchets in their hands, pace up and down, ready at the 
first cry to cut the cord and drop the buoys overboard. Every 
two hours they are regularly relieved, like sentinels on guard. 
No similar precautions are adopted in the merchant or whaling 
service. 

Thus deeply solicitous to preserve human life are the r eg- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


89 


ulations of men-of-war ; and seldom has there been a better 
illustration of this solicitude than at the battle of Trafalgar, 
when, after “ several thousand” French seamen had been de- 
stroyed, according to Lord Collingwood, and, by the official 
returns, sixteen hundred and ninety Englishmen were killed 
or wounded, the Captains of the surviving ships ordered the 
life-buoy sentries from their death-dealing guns to their vigi- 
lant posts, as officers of the Humane Society. 

“ There, Bungs !” cried Scrimmage, a sheet-anchor-man,* 
“ there’s a good pattern for you; make us a brace of life-buoys 
like that ; something that will save a man, and not fill and 
sink under him, as those leaky quarter-casks of yours will the 
first time there’s occasion to drop ’em. I came near pitching 
off the bowsprit the other day ; and, when I scrambled in- 
board again, I went aft to get a squint at ’em. Why, Bungs, 
they are all open between the staves. Shame on you ! Sup- 
pose you yourself should fall overboard, and find yourself go- 
ing down with buoys under you of your own making — what 
then ?” 

“ I never go aloft, and don’t intend to fall overboard,” re- 
plied Bungs. 

“Don’t believe it!” cried the sheet-anchor-man; “you 
lopers that live about the decks here are nearer the bottom of 
the sea than the light hand that looses the main -royal. Mind 
your eye, Bungs — mind your eye !” 

“ I will,” retorted Bungs ; “ and you mind yours !” 

Next day, just at dawn, I was startled from my hammock 
by the cry of “ All hands about ship and shorten sail /” 
Springing up the ladders, I found that an unknown man had 
fallen overboard from the chains ; and darting a glance toward 
the poop, perceived, from their gestures, that the life-sentries 
there had cut away the buoys. 

* In addition to the Bower-anchors carried on her bows, a frigate 
carries large anchors in her fore-chains, called Sheet-anchors. Hence, 
the old seamen stationed in that part of a man-of-war are called Sheet- 
anchor-men. 


DO 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


It was blowing a fresh breeze ; the frigate was going fast 
through the water. But the one thousand arms of five hund- 
red men soon tossed her about on the other tack, and checked 
her further headway. 

“ Do you see him ?” shouted the officer of the watch through 
his trumpet, hailing the main-mast-head. “ Man or buoy , do 
you see either ?” 

“ See nothing, sir,” was the reply. 

“ Clear away the cutters !” was the next order. “ Bugler ! 
call away the second, third, and fourth cutters’ crews. Hands 
by the tackles !” 

In less than three minutes the three boats were down. 
More hands were wanted in one of them, and, among others, 
I jumped in to make up the deficiency. 

“ Now, men, give way ! and each man look out along his 
oar, and look sharp !” cried the officer of our boat. For a 
time, in perfect silence, we slid up and down the great seeth- 
ing swells of the sea, but saw nothing. 

“ There, it’s no use,” cried the officer ; “ he’s gone, who 
ever he is. Pull away, men — pull away ! they’ll be recall- 
ing us soon.” 

“Let him drown !” cried the strokesman ; “he’s spoiled my 
watch below for me.” 

“ Who the devil is he ?” cried another. 

“He’s one who’ll never have a coffin !” replied a third. 

“ No, no ! they’ll never sing out, * All hands bury the dead V 
for him, my hearties !” cried a fourth. 

“ Silence,” said the officer, “ and look along your oars.” 
But the sixteen oarsmen still continued their talk ; and, after 
pulling about for two or three hours, we spied the recall-signal 
at the frigate’s fore-t’-gallant-mast-head, and returned on 
board, having seen no sign even of the life-buoys. 

The boats were hoisted up, the yards braced forward, and 
away we bowled — one man less. 

“Muster all hands !” was now the order; when, upon call- 
ing the roll, the cooper was the only man missing. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


91 


“ I told you so, men,” cried the Captain of the Head ; “ I 
said we would lose a man before long.” 

“ Bungs, is it ?” cried Scrimmage, the sheet-anchor-man ; 
“ I told him his buoys wouldn’t save a drowning man ; and 
now he has proved it !” 




CHAPTER XVIII. 


A MAN-OF-WAR FULL AS A NUT. 

It was necessary to supply the lost cooper’s place ; accord- 
ingly, word was passed for all who belonged to that calling 
to muster at the main-mast, in order that one of them might 
be selected. Thirteen men obeyed the summons — a circum- 
stance illustrative of the fact that many good handicraftsmen 
are lost to their trades and the world by serving in men-of- 
war. Indeed, from a frigate’s crew might be culled out men 
of all callings and vocations, from a backslidden parson to a 
broken-down comedian. The Navy is the asylum lor the per- 
verse, the home of the unfortunate. Here the sons of adversity 
meet the children of calamity, and here the children of calam- 
ity meet the offspring of sin. Bankrupt brokers, boot-blacks, 
blacklegs, and blacksmiths here assemble together ; and cast- 
away tinkers, watch-makers, quill-drivers, cobblers, doctors, 
farmers, and lawyers compare past experiences and talk of 
old times. Wrecked on a desert shore, a man-of-war’s crew 
could quickly found an Alexandria by themselves, and fill it 
with all the things which go to make up a capital. 

Frequently, at one and the same time, you see every' trade 
in operation on the gun-deck — coopering, carpentering, tailor- 
ing, tinkering, blacksmithing, rope-making, preaching, gam- 
bling, and fortune-telling. 

In truth, a man-of-war is a city afloat, with long avenues 
set out with guns instead of trees, and numerous shady lanes, 
courts, and by-ways. The quarter-deck is a grand square, 
park, or parade ground, with a great Pittsfield elm, in the 
shape of the main-mast, at one end, and fronted at the other 
by the palace of the Commodore’s cabin. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


93 


Or, rather, a man-of-war is a lofty, walled, and garrisoned 
town, like Quebec, where the thoroughfares are mostly ram- 
parts, and peaceable citizens meet armed sentries at every 
corner. 

Or it is like the lodging-houses in Paris, turned upside down ; 
the first floor, or deck, being rented by a lord ; the second, by 
a select club of gentlemen ; the third, by crowds of artisans ; 
and the fourth, by a whole rabble of common people. 

For even thus is it in a frigate, where the commander has 
a whole cabin to himself on the spar-deck, the lieutenants 
their ward-room underneath, and the mass of sailors swing 
their hammocks under all. 

And with its long rows of port-hole casements, each reveal- 
ing the muzzle of a cannon, a man-of-war resembles a three- 
story house in a suspicious part of the town, with a basement 
of indefinite depth, and ugly-looking fellows gazing out at the 
windows. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE JACKET ALOFT. 

* 

Again must I call attention to my white jacket, which 
about this time came near being the death of me. 

I am of a meditative humor, and at sea used often to mount 
aloft at night, and, seating myself on one of the upper yards, 
tuck my jacket about me and give loose to reflection. In 
some ships in which I have done this, the sailors used to 
fancy that I must be studying astronomy — which, indeed, to 
some extent, was the case — and that my object in mounting 
aloft was to get a nearer view of the stars, supposing me, of 
course, to be short-sighted. A very silly conceit of theirs, 
some may say, but not so silly after all ; for surely the ad- 
vantage of getting nearer an object by two hundred feet is 
not to be underrated. Then, to study the stars upon the 
wide, boundless sea, is divine as it was to the Chaldean Magi, 
who observed their revolutions from the plains. 

And it is a very fine feeling, and one that fuses us into the 
universe of things, and makes us a part of the All, to think 
that, wherever we ocean-wanderers rove, we have still the 
same glorious old stars to keep us company ; that they still 
shine onward and on, forever beautiful and bright, and luring 
us, by every ray, to die and be glorified with them. 

Ay, ay ! we sailors sail not in vain. We expatriate our- 
selves to nationalize with the universe ; and in all our voy- 
ages round the world, we are still accompanied by those old 
circumnavigators, the stars, who are shipmates and fellow- 
sailors* of ours — sailing in heaven’s blue, as we on the 
azure main. Let genteel generations scoff at our hardened 
hands, and finger-nails tipped with tar — did they ever clasp 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR, 


95 


truer palms than ours ? Let them feel of our sturdy hearts, 
heating like sledge-hammers in those hot smithies, our bo- 
soms ; with their arnber-headed canes, let them feel of our 
generous pulses, and swear that they go off like thirty- two- 
pounders. 

Oh, give me again the rover’s life — the joy, the thrill, the 
whirl ! Let me feel thee again, old sea ! let me leap into 
thy saddle Once more. I am sick of these terra firma toils 
and cares ; sick of the dust and reek of towns. Let me hear 
the clatter of hailstones on icebergs, and not the dull tramp 
of these plodders, plodding their dull way from their cradles 
to their graves. Let me snuff thee up, sea-breeze ! and 
whinny in thy spray. Forbid it, sea-gods ! intercede for me 
with Neptune, O sweet Amphitrite, that no dull clod may 
fall on my coffin ! Be mine the tomb that swallowed up 
Pharaoh and all his hosts ; let me lie down with Drake, 
where he sleeps in the sea. 

But when White- Jacket speaks of the rover’s life, he 
means not life in a man-of-war, which, with its martial for- 
malities and thousand vices, stabs to the heart the soul of all 
free-and-easy honorable rovers. 

I have said that I was wont to mount up aloft and muse ; 
and thus was it with me the night following the loss of the 
cooper. Ere my watch in the top had expired, high up on 
the main-royal-yard I reclined, the white jacket folded around 
me like Sir John Moore in his frosted cloak. 

Eight bells had struck, and my watchmates had hied to 
their hammocks, and the other watch had gone to their sta- 
tions, and the top below me was full of strangers, and still 
one hundred feet above even them I lay entranced ; now 
dozing, now dreaming ; now thinking of things past, and 
anon of the life to come. Well-timed was the latter thought, 
for the life to come was much nearer overtaking me than I 
then could imagine. Perhaps I was half conscious at last 
of a tremulous voice hailing the main-royal-yard from the 
top. But if so, the consciousness glided away from me, and 


96 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


left me in Lethe. But when, like lightning, the yard dropped 
under me, and instinctively I clung with both hands to the 
“ tie,” then I came to myself with a rush, and felt something 
like a choking hand at my throat. For an instant I thought 
the Gulf Stream in my head was whirling me away to eter- 
nity ; but the next moment I found myself standing ; the 
yard had descended to the cap ; and shaking myself in my 
jacket, I felt that I was unharmed and alive. 

Who had done this ? who had made this attempt on my 
life ? thought I, as I ran down the rigging. 

“ Here it comes ! — Lord ! Lord ! here it comes ! See, see ! 
it is white as a hammock.” 

“ Who’s coming ?” I shouted, springing down into the top ; 
“ who’s white as a hammock ?” 

“ Bless my soul, Bill, it’s only White- Jacket — that infer- 
nal White- Jacket again !” 

It seems they had spied a moving white spot there aloft, 
and, sailor-like, had taken me for the ghost of the cooper ; 
and after hailing me, and bidding me descend, to test my 
corporeality, and getting no answer, they had lowered the 
halyards in affright. 

In a rage I tore off the jacket, and threw it on the deck. 

“ Jacket,” cried I, “ you must change your complexion ! 
you must hie to the dyers and he dyed, that I may live. I 
have hut one poor life, White- Jacket, and that life I can not 
spare. I can not consent to die for you, hut he dyed you 
must for me. You can dye many times without injury ; but 
I can not die without irreparable loss, and running the eter- 
nal risk.” 

So in the morning, jacket in hand, I repaired to the First 
Lieutenant, and related the narrow escape I had had during 
the night. I enlarged upon the general perils I ran in being 
taken for a ghost, and earnestly besought him to relax his 
commands for once, and give me an order on Brush, the cap- 
tain of the paint-room, for some black paint, that my jacket 
might he painted of that color. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


97 


“Just look at it, sir,” I added, holding it up ; “ did you 
ever see any thing whiter ? Consider how it shines of a 
night, like a hit of the Milky Way. A little paint, sir, you 
can not refuse.” 

“ The ship has no paint to spare,” he said ; “ you must 
get along without it.” 

“ Sir, every rain gives me a soaking ; — Cape Horn is at 
hand — six hrushes-full would make it water-proof; and no 
longer would I be in peril of my life !” 

“ Can’t help it, sir ; depart !” 

I fear it will not be well with me in the end ; for if my 
own sins are to he forgiven only as I forgive that hard-heart- 
ed and unimpressible First Lieutenant, then pardon there is 
none for me. 

What ! when but one dab of paint would make a man of 
a ghost, and a Mackintosh of a herring-net — to refuse it ! 

I am full. I can say no more. 


E 



CHAPTER XX. 


HOW THEY SLEEP IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

No more of my luckless jacket for a while ; let me speak of 
my hammock, and the tribulations I endured therefrom. 

Give me plenty of room to swing it in ; let me swing it 
between two date-trees oh an Arabian plain ; or extend it 
diagonally from Moorish pillar to pillar, in the open marble 
Court of the Lions in Granada’s Alhambra : let me swing it 
on a high bluff of the Mississippi — one swing in the pure 
ether for every swing over the green grass ; or let me oscil- 
late in it beneath the cool dome of St. Peter’s ; or drop me in 
it, as in a balloon, from the zenith, with the whole firmament 
to rock and expatiate in; and I would not exchange my 
coarse canvas hammock for the grand state-bed, like a stately 
coach-and-four, in which they tuck in a king when he passes 
a night at Blenheim Castle. 

When you have the requisite room, you always have 
“ spreaders” in your hammock ; that is, two horizontal sticks, 
one at each end, which serve to keep the sides apart, and cre- 
ate a wide vacancy between, wherein you can turn over and 
over — lay on this side or that ; on your back, if you please ; 
stretch out your legs ; in short, take your ease in your ham- 
mock ; for of all inns, your bed is the best. 

But when, with five hundred other hammocks, yours is 
crowded and jammed in on all sides, on a frigate berth-deck; 
the third from above, when “ spreaders" are prohibited by an 
express edict from the Captain’s cabin ; and every man about 
you is jealously watchful of the rights and privileges of his 
own proper hammock, as settled by law and usage ; then your 
hammock is your Bastile and canvas jug ; into which, or out 






THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 99 

of which, it is very hard to get ; and where sleep is but a 
mockery and a name. 

Eighteen inches a man is all they allow you ; eighteen 
inches in width ; in that you must swing. Dreadful ! they 
give you more swing than that at the gallows. 

During warm nights in the Tropics, your hammock is as a 
stew-pan ; where you stew and stew, till you can almost hear 
yourself hiss. Vain are all stratagems to widen your accom- 
modations. Let them catch you insinuating your boots or 
other articles in the head of your hammock, by way of a 
“ spreader.” Near and far, the whole rank and file of the 
row to which you belong feel the encroachment in an instant, 
and are clamorous till the guilty one is found out, and his 
pallet brought back to its bearings. 

In platoons and squadrons, they all lie on a level ; their 
hammock clews crossing and recrossing in all directions, so as 
to present one vast field-bed, midway between the ceiling and 
the floor ; which are about five feet asunder. 

One extremely warm night, during a calm, when it was so 
hot that only a skeleton could keep cool (from the free current 
of air through its bones), after being drenched in my own per- 
spiration, I managed to wedge myself out of my hammock ; 
and with what little strength I had left, lowered myself gently 
to the deck. Let me see now, thought I, whether my inge- 
nuity can not devise some method whereby I can have room 
to breathe and sleep at the same time. I have it. I will 
lower my hammock underneath all these others ; and then — 
upon that separate and independent level, at least — I shall 
have the whole berth-deck to myself. Accordingly, I lowered 
away my pallet to the desired point — about three inches from 
the floor — and crawled into it again. 

But, alas ! this arrangement made such a sweeping semicir- 
cle of my hammock, that, while my head and feet were at par, 
the small of my back was settling down indefinitely ; I felt as 
if some gigantic archer had hold of me for a bow. 

But there was another plan left. I triced up my hammock 


100 


WHITE-JACKET. 


with all my strength, so as to bring it wholly above the tiers 
pf pallets around me. This done, by a last effort, I hoisted 
myself into it ; but alas ! it was much worse than before. 
My luckless hammock was stiff and straight as a board ; and 
there I was — laid out in it, with my nose against the ceiling, 
like a dead man’s against the lid of his coffin. 

So at last I was fain to return to my old level, and moral- 
ize upon the folly, in all arbitrary governments, of striving to 
get either below or above those whom legislation has placed 
upon an equality with yourself. 

Speaking of hammocks, recalls a circumstance that happen- 
ed one night in the Neversink. It was three or four times 
repeated, with various but not fatal results. 

The watch below was fast asleep on the berth-deck, where 
perfect silence was reigning, when a sudden shock and a groan 
roused up all hands ; and the hem of a pair of white trowsers 
vanished up one of the ladders at the fore-hatchway. 

We ran toward the groan, and found a man lying on the 
deck ; one end of his hammock having given way, pitching 
his head close to three twenty-four-pound cannon shot, which 
must have been purposely placed in that position. When it 
was discovered that this man had long been suspected of be- 
ing an informed among the crew, little surprise and less pleas- 
ure were evinced at his narrow escape. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


ONE REASON WHY MEN-OF-WAR’s-MEN ARE, GENERALLY, SHORT- 
LIVED. 

I can not quit this matter of the hammocks without mak- 
ing mention of a grievance among the sailors that ought to he 
redressed. 

In a man-of-war at sea, the sailors have watch and watch ; 
that is, through every twenty-four hours, they are on and off 
duty every four hours. Now, the hammocks are piped down 
from the nettings (the open space for stowing them, running 
round the top of the bulwarks) a little after sunset, and piped 
up again when the forenoon watch is called, at eight o’clock 
in the morning; so that during the daytime they are inac- 
cessible as pallets. This would be all well enough, did the 
sailors have a complete night’s rest ; but every other night at 
sea, one watch have only four hours in their hammocks. In- 
deed, deducting the time allowed for the other watch to turn 
out ; for yourself to arrange your hammock, get into it, and 
fairly get asleep ; it may be said that, every other night, you 
have but three hours’ sleep in your hammock. Having then 
been on deck for twice four hours, at eight o’clock in the 
morning your watch-below comes round, and you are not liable 
to duty until noon. Under like circumstances, a merchant 
seaman goes to his bunk, and has the benefit of a good long 
sleep. But in a man-of-war you can do no such thing ; your 
hammock is very neatly stowed in the nettings, and there it 
must remain till nightfall. 

But perhaps there is a corner for you somewhere along the 
batteries on the gun-deck, where you may enjoy a snug nap. 
But as no one is allowed to recline on the larboard side of 


102 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 




the gun-deck (which is reserved as a corridor for the officers 
when they go forward to their smoking-room at the bridle - 
port), the starboard side only is left to the seamen. But most 
of this side, also, is occupied by the carpenters, sail-makers, 
barbers, and coopers. In short, so few are the corners where 
you can snatch a nap during daytime in a frigate, that not 
one in ten of the watch, who have been on deck eight hours, 
can get a wink of sleep till the following night. Repeatedly, 
after by good fortune securing a corner, I have been roused 
from it by some functionary commissioned to keep it clear. 

Off Cape Horn, what before had been very uncomfortable 
became a serious hardship. Drenched through and through 
by the spray of the sea at night, I have sometimes slept stand- 
ing on the spar-deck — and shuddered as I slept— for the want 
of sufficient sleep in my hammock. 

During three days of the stormiest weather, we were given 
the privilege of the berth-deck (at other times strictly inter- 
dicted), where we were permitted to spread our jackets, and 
take a nap in the morning after the eight hours’ night expos- 
ure. But this privilege was but a beggarly one, indeed. Not 
to speak of our jackets — used for blankets — being soaking wet, 
the spray, coming down the hatchways, kept the planks of 
the berth-deck itself constantly wet ; whereas, had we been 
permitted our hammocks, we might have swung dry over all 
this deluge. But we endeavored to make ourselves as warm 
and comfortable as possible, chiefly by close stowing, so as to 
generate a little steam, in the absence of any fire-side warmth. 
You have seen, perhaps, the way in which they box up sub- 
jects intended to illustrate the winter lectures of a professor 
of surgery. Just so we laid ; heel and point, face to back, 
love-tailed into each other at every ham and knee. The wet 
->f our jackets, thus densely packed, would soon begin to distill. 
But it was like pouring hot water on you to keep you from 
freezing. It was like being “packed” between the soaked 
sheets in a Water-cure Establishment. 

Such a posture could not be preserved for any considerable 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


103 


period without shifting side for side. Three or four times 
during the four hours I would be startled from a wet doze by 
the hoarse cry of a fellow who did the duty of a corporal at 
the after-end of my file, “ Sleepers ahoy ! stand by to slew 
round!” and, with d double shuffle, we all rolled in concert, 
and found ourselves facing the taffrail instead of the bowsprit. 
But, however you turned, your nose was sure to stick to one or 
other of the steaming backs on your two flanks. There was 
some little relief in the change of odor consequent upon this. 

But what is the reason that, after battling out eight stormy 
hours on deck at night, men-of-war’s-men are not allowed the 
poor boon of a dry four hours’ nap during the day following ? 
What is the reason ? The Commodore, Captain, and First 
Lieutenant, Chaplain, Purser, and scores of others, have all 
night in, just as if they were staying at a hotel on shore. And 
the junior Lieutenants not only have their cots to go to at any 
time ; but as only one of them is required to head the watch, 
and there are so many of them among whom tc^ divide that 
duty, they are only on deck four hours to twelve hours below. 
In some cases the proportion is still greater. Whereas, with 
the people it is four hours in and four hours off continually. 

What is the reason, then, that the common seamen should 
fare so hard in this matter ? It would seem but a simple 
thing to let them get down their hammocks during the day 
for a nap. But no ; such a proceeding would mar the uni- 
formity of daily events in a man-of-war. It seems indispens- 
able to the picturesque effect of the spar-deck, that the ham- 
mocks should invariably remain stowed in the nettings be- 
tween sunrise and sundown. But the chief reason is this — 
a reason which has sanctioned many an abuse in this world — 
precedents are against it ; such a thing as sailors sleeping in 
their hammocks in the daytime, after being eight hours ex- 
posed to a night-storm, was hardly ever heard of in the navy. 
Though, to the immortal honor of some captains be it said, 
the fact is upon navy record that, off Cape Horn, they have 
vouchsafed the morning hammocks to their crew. Heaven 


104 


WHITE-JACKET. 


bless such tender-hearted officers ; and may they and their 
descendants — ashore or afloat — have sweet and pleasant slum- 
bers while they live, and an undreaming siesta when they die. 

It is concerning such things as the subject of this chapter 
that special enactments of Congress are demanded. Health 
and comfort — so far as duly attainable under the circumstan- 
ces — should be legally guaranteed to the man-of-war’s-man ; 
and not left to the discretion or caprice of their commanders. 


CltAPTEK. XXII. 


WASH-DAY, AND HOUSE-CLEANING IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

Besides the other tribulations connected with your ham- 
mock, you must keep it snow-white and clean ; who has not 
observed the long rows of spotless hammocks exposed in a frig- 
ate’s nettings, where, through the day, their outsides, at least, 
are kept airing ? 

Hence it comes that there are regular mornings appointed 
for the scrubbing of hammocks ; and such mornings are called 
scrub-hammock-mornings ; and desperate is the scrubbing 
that ensues. 

Before daylight the operation begins. All hands are called, 
and at it they go. Every deck is spread with hammocks, fore 
and aft ; and lucky are you if you can get sufficient super- 
ficies to spread your own hammock in. Down on their knees 
are five hundred men, scrubbing away with brushes and 
brooms ; jostling, and crowding, and quarreling about using 
each other’s suds ; when all their Purser’s soap goes to create 
one indiscriminate yeast. 

Sometimes you discover that, in the dark, you have been 
all the while scrubbing your next neighbor’s hammock instead 
of your own. But it is too late to begin over again ; for now 
the word is passed for every man to advance with his ham- 
mock, that it may be tied to a net-like frame- work of clothes- 
lines, and hoisted aloft to dry. 

That done, without delay you get together your frocks and 
trowsers, and on the already flooded deck embark in the laun- 
dry business. You have no special bucket or basin to your- 
self — the ship being one vast wash-tub, where all hands wash 
and rinse out, and rinse out and wash, till at last the word 


106 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


is passed again, to make fast your clothes, that they, also, may 
be elevated to dry. 

Then on all three decks the operation of holy-stoning be- 
gins, so called from the queer name bestowed upon the prin- 
cipal instruments employed. These are ponderous flat stones 
with long ropes at each end, by which the stones are slidden 
about, to and fro, over the wet and sanded decks ; a most 
wearisome, dog-like, galley-slave employment. For the by- 
ways and corners about the masts and guns, smaller stones 
are used, called 'prayer-books, ; inasmuch as the devout opera- 
tor has to down with them on his knees. 

Finally, a grand flooding takes place, and the decks are 
remorselessly thrashed with dry swabs. After which an ex- 
traordinary implement — a sort of leathern hoe called a “ squil- 
gee ” — is used to scrape and squeeze the last dribblings of water 
from the planks. Concerning this “ squilgee,” I think some- 
thing of drawing up a memoir, and reading it before the 
Academy of Arts and Sciences. It is a most curious affair. 

By the time all these operations are concluded it is eight 
bells , and all hands are piped to breakfast upon the damp and 
every-way disagreeable decks. 

Now, against this invariable daily flooding of the three decks 
of a frigate, as a man-of-war’s-man, White- Jacket most earn- 
estly protests. In sunless weather it keeps the sailor’s quar- 
ters perpetually damp ; so much so, that you can scarce sit 
down without running the risk of getting the lumbago. One 
rheumatic old sheet-anchor-man among us was driven to the 
extremity of sewing a piece of tarred canvas on the seat of his 
trowsers. 

Let those neat and tidy officers who so love to see a ship kept 
spick and span clean ; who institute vigorous search after the 
man who chances to drop the crumb of a biscuit on deck, 
when the ship is rolling in a sea-way ; let all such swing their 
hammocks with the sailors, and they would soon get sick of 
this daily damping of the decks. 

Is a ship a wooden platter, that it is to be scrubbed out 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


107 


every morning before breakfast, even if the thermometer be at 
zero, and every sailor goes barefooted through the flood with 
the chilblains ? And all the while the ship carries a doctor, 
well aware of Boerhaave’s great maxim “keep the feet dry.” 
He has plenty of pills to give you when you are down with 
a fever, the consequences of these things ; but enters no pro- 
test at the outset — as it is his duty to do — against the cause 
that induces the fever. 

During the pleasant night watches, the promenading offi- 
cers, mounted on their high-heeled boots, pass dry-shod, like 
the Israelites, over the decks ; but by daybreak the roaring 
tide sets back, and the poor sailors are almost overwhelmed 
in it, like the Egyptians in the Red Sea. 

Oh ! the chills, colds, and agues that are caught. No snug 
stove, grate, or fire-place to go to ; no, your only way to keep 
warm is to keep in a blazing passion, and anathematize the 
custom that every morning makes a wash-house of a man-of- 
war. 

Look at it. Say you go on board a line-of-battle-ship : you 
see every thing scrupulously neat ; you see all the decks clear 
and unobstructed as the sidewalks of Wall Street of a Sunday 
morning ; you see no trace of a sailor’s dormitory ; you mar- 
vel by what magic all this is brought about. And well you 
may. For consider, that in this unobstructed fabric nearly 
one thousand mortal men have to sleep, eat, wash, dress, cook, 
and perform all the ordinary functions of humanity. The same 
number of men ashore would expand themselves into a town- 
ship. Is it credible, then, that this extraordinary neatness, 
and especially this unobstructedness of a man-of-war, can be 
brought about, except by the most rigorous edicts, and a very 
serious sacrifice, with respect to the sailors, of the domestic 
comforts of life ? To be sure, sailors themselves do not often 
complain of these things ; they are used to them ; but man 
can become used even to the hardest usage. And it is because 
he is used to it, that sometimes he does not complain of it. 

Of all men-of-war, the American ships are the most excess- 


108 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ively neat, and have the greatest reputation for it. And of 
all men-of-war the general discipline of the American ships is 
the most arbitrary. 

In the English navy, the men liberally mess on tables, 
which, between meals, are triced up out of the way. The 
American sailors mess on the deck, and peck up their broken 
biscuit, or midshipmen's nuts, like fowls in a barn-yard. 

But if this unobstructedness in an American fighting-ship 
be, at all hazards, so desirable, why not imitate the Turks ? 
In the Turkish navy they have no mess-chests ; the sailors 
roll their mess things up in a rug, and thrust them under a 
gun. Nor do they have any hammocks ; they sleep any where 
about the decks in their gregoes. Indeed, come to look at it, 
what more does a man-of-war’s-man absolutely require to live 
in than his own skin ? That’s room enough ; and room 
enough to turn in, if he but knew how to shift his spine, end 
for end, like a ramrod, without disturbing his next neighbor. 

Among all men-of-war’ s-men, it is a maxim that over-neat 
vessels are Tartars to the crew ; and perhaps it may be safely 
laid down that, when you see such a ship, some sort of tyran- 
ny is not very far off. 

In the Neversink, as in other national ships, the business 
of holystoning the decks was often prolonged, by way of pun- 
ishment to the men, particularly of a raw, cold morning. 
This is one of the punishments which a lieutenant of the 
watch may easily inflict upon the crew, without infringing the 
statute which places the power of punishment solely in the 
hands of the Captain. 

The abhorrence which men-of-war’ s-men have for this pro- 
tracted holystoning in cold, comfortless weather — with their 
bare feet exposed to the splashing inundations — is shown in a 
strange story, rife among them, curiously tinctured with their 
proverbial superstitions. 

The First Lieutenant of an English sloop of war, a severe 
disciplinarian, was uncommonly particular concerning the 
whiteness of the quarter-deck. One bitter winter morning at 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


109 


sea, when the crew had washed that part of the vessel, as 
usual, and put away their holy-stones, this officer came on 
deck, and after inspecting it, .ordered the holy-stones and prayer 
books up again. Once more slipping off the shoes from their 
frosted feet, and rolling up their trowsers, the crew kneeled 
down to their task ; and in that suppliant posture, silently in- 
voked a curse upon their tyrant ; praying, as he went below, 
that he might never more come out of the ward-room alive. 
The prayer seemed answered ; for being shortly after visited 
with a paralytic stroke at his breakfast-table, the First Lieu- 
tenant next morning was carried out of the ward-room feet 
foremost, dead. As they dropped him over the side — so goes 
the story — the marine sentry at the gangway turned his hack 
upon the corpse. 

To the credit of the humane and sensible portion of the roll 
of American navy-captains, he it added, that they are not so 
particular in keeping the decks spotless at all times, and in all 
weathers ; nor do they torment the men with scraping bright- 
wood and polishing ring-bolts ; hut give all such gingerbread- 
work a hearty coat of black paint, which looks more warlike, 
is a better preservative, and exempts the sailors from a per- 
petual annoyance. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THEATRIC AES IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

The Neversink had summered out her last Christmas on 
the Equator ; she was now destined to winter out the Fourth 
of July not very far from the frigid latitudes of Cape Horn. 

It is sometimes the custom in the American Navy to cele- 
brate this national holiday by doubling the allowance of spir- 
its to the men ; that is, if the ship happen to be lying in har- 
bor. The effects of this patriotic plan may be easily imagined : 
the whole ship is converted into a dram-shop ; and the intoxi- 
cated sailors reel about, on all three decks, singing, howling, 
and fighting. This is the time that, owing to the relaxed dis- 
cipline of the ship, old and almost forgotten quarrels are reviv- 
ed, under the stimulus of drink ; and, fencing themselves up 
between the guns — so as to be sure of a clear space with at 
least three walls — the combatants, two and two, fight out 
their hate, cribbed and cabined like soldiers dueling in a sen- 
try-box. In a word, scenes ensue which would not for a sin- 
gle instant be tolerated by the officers upon any other occa- 
sion. This is the time that the most venerable of quarter- 
gunners and quarter-masters, together with the smallest ap- 
prentice boys, and men never known to have been previously 
intoxicated during the cruise — this is the time that they all 
roll together in the same muddy trough of drunkenness. 

In emulation of the potentates of the Middle Ages, some 
Captains, augment the din by authorizing a grand jail-deliv- 
ery of all the prisoners who, on that auspicious Fourth of the 
month, may happen to be confined in the ship’s prison — 11 the 
brig .” 

But from scenes like these the Neversink was happily de- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


Ill 


livered. Besides that she was now approaching a most peril- 
ous part of the ocean — which would have made it madness to 
intoxicate the sailors — her complete destitution of grog, even 
for ordinary consumption, was an obstacle altogether insuper- 
able, even had the Captain felt disposed to indulge his man- 
of-war’ s-men by the most copious libations. 

For several days previous to the advent of the holiday, fre- 
quent conferences were held on the gun-deck touching the 
melancholy prospects before the ship. 

“ Too bad — too bad !” cried a top : man. “ Think of it, 
shipmates — a Fourth of July without grog !” 

“ I’ll hoist the Commodore’s pennant at half-mast that day,” 
sighed the signal-quarter-master. 

“ And I’ll turn my best uniform jacket wrong side out, to 
keep company with the pennant, old Ensign,” sympathetically 
responded an after-guard’s-man. 

“ Ay, do !” cried a forecastle-man. “ I could almost pipe 
my eye to think on’t.” 

“No grog on de day dat tried men’s souls!” blubbered 
Sunshine, the galley-cook. 

“ Who would be a Jankee now ?” roared a Hollander of 
the fore-top, more Dutch than sour-crout. 

“Is this the riglar fruits of liberty ?” touchingly inquired 
an Irish waister of an old Spanish sheet* anchor-man. 

You will generally observe that, of all Americans, your 
foreign-born citizens are the most patriotic — especially toward 
the Fourth of July. 

But how could Captain Claret, the father of his crew, 
behold the grief of his ocean children with indifference ? He 
could not. Three days before the anniversary — it still con- 
tinuing very pleasant weather for these latitudes — it was 
publicly announced that free permission was given to the 
sailors to get up any sort of theatricals they desired, where- 
with to honor the Fourth. 

Now, some weeks prior to the Neversink’s sailing from 
home — nearly three years before the time here spoken of — 


112 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


some of the seamen had clubbed together, and made up a 
considerable purse, for the purpose of purchasing a theatrical 
outfit ; having in view to diversify the monotony of lying in 
foreign harbors for weeks together, by an occasional display 
on the boards — though if ever there was a continual theatre 
in the world, playing by night and by day, and without in- 
tervals between the acts, a man-of-war is that theatre, and 
her planks are the boards indeed. 

The sailors who originated this scheme had served in other 
American frigates, where the privilege of having theatricals 
was allowed to the crew. What was their chagrin, then, 
when, upon making an application to the Captain, in a Pe- 
ruvian harbor, for permission to present the much-admired 
drama of “ The Ruffian Boy” under the Captain’s personal 
patronage, that dignitary assured them that there were al- 
ready enough rujjian boys on board, without conjuring up 
any more from the green-room. 

The theatrical outfit, therefore, was stowed down in the 
bottom of the sailors’ bags, who little anticipated then that it 
would ever be dragged out while Captain Claret had the sway. 

But immediately upon the announcement that the em- 
bargo was removed, vigorous preparations were at once com- 
menced to celebrate the Fourth with unwonted spirit. The 
half-deck was set apart for the theatre, and the signal-quarter- 
master was commanded to loan his flags to decorate it in the 
most patriotic style. 

As the stage-struck portion of the crew had frequently 
during the cruise rehearsed portions of various plays, to while 
away the tedium of the night-watches, they needed no long 
time now to perfect themselves in their parts. 

Accordingly, on the very next morning after the indul- 
gence had been granted by the Captain, the following written 
placard, presenting a broadside of staring capitals, was found 
tacked against the main-mast on the gun-deck. It was as 
if a Drury-Lane bill had been posted upon the London Mon- 
ument : 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


113 


CAPE HORN THEATRE. 

Grand Celebration of the Fourth of July. 

DAY PERFORMANCE. 

UNCOMMON ATTRACTION. 

THE OLD WAGON PAID OFF! 

JACK CHASE PERCY ROYAL-MAST. 

STARS OF THE FIRST MAGNITUDE. 

For this time only, 

THE TRUE YANKEE SAILOR. 

The managers of the Cape Horn Theatre beg leave to in- 
form the inhabitants of the Pacific and Southern Oceans that, 
on the afternoon of the Fourth of July, 184-, they will have 
the honor to present the admired drama of 

THE OLD WAGON PAID OFF! 


Commodore Bougee Toni Brown, of the Fore-top. 

Captain Spy-glass Ned Brace, of the After- Guard. 

Commodore’s Cockswain . . Joe Bunk, of the Launch . 

Old Luff. Quarter-master Coffin. 

Mayor Seafull, of the Forecastle. 

Percy Royal-Mast Jack Chase. 

Mrs. Lovelorn Long-locks, of the After- Guard. 

Toddy Moll Frank Jones. 

Gin and Sugar Sail Dick Dash. 


Sailors, Marines, Bar-keepers, Crimps, Aldermen, Police 
officers, Soldiers, Landsmen generally. 

Long live the Commodore I 1 1 Admission Free. 

To conclude with the much-admired song by Dibdin, al- 
tered to suit all American Tars, entitled 

THE TRUE YANKEE SAILOR. 

True Yankee Sailor (in costume), Patrick Flinegan, Captain 
of the Head. 


114 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Performance to commence with “ Hail Columbia,” by the 
Brass Band. Ensign rises at three hells, P.M. No sailor 
permitted to enter in his shirt-sleeves. Good order is expect- 
ed to he maintained. The Master-at-arms and Ship’s Corpo- 
rals to he in attendance to keep the peace. 

At the earnest entreaties of the seamen, Lemsford, the gun- 
deck poet, had been prevailed upon to draw up this bill. And 
upon this one occasion his literary abilities were far from be- 
ing underrated, even by the least intellectual person on board. 
Nor must it be omitted that, before the bill was placarded, 
Captain Claret, enacting the part of censor and grand cham- 
berlain, ran over a manuscript copy of “ The Old Wagon 
Paid Off” to see whether it contained any thing calculated 
to breed disaffection against lawful authority among the crew. 
He objected to some parts, but in the end let them all pass. 

The morning of The Fourth — most anxiously awaited — 
dawned clear and fair. The breeze was steady ; the air 
bracing cold ; and one and all the sailors anticipated a glee- 
ful afternoon. And thus was falsified the prophecies of cer- 
tain old growlers averse to theatricals, who had predicted a 
gale of wind that would quash all the arrangements of the 
green-room. 

As the men whose regular turns, at the time of the per- 
formance, would come round to be stationed in the tops, and 
at the various halyards and running ropes about the spar- 
deck, could not be permitted to partake in the celebration, 
there accordingly ensued, during the morning, many amusing 
scenes of tars who were anxious to procure substitutes at 
their posts. Through the day, many anxious glances were 
cast to windward ; but the weather still promised fair. 

At last the people were piped to dinner ; two bells struck ; 
and soon after, all who could be spared from their stations 
hurried to the half-deck. The capstan bars were placed on 
shot-boxes, as at prayers on Sundays, furnishing seats for the 
audience, while a low stage, rigged by the carpenter’s gang, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


115 


was built at one end of the open space. The curtain was 
composed of a large ensign, and the bulwarks round about 
were draperied with the flags of all nations. The ten or 
twelve members of the brass band were ranged in a row at 
the foot of the stage, their polished instruments in their hands, 
while the consequential Captain of the Band himself was ele- 
vated upon a gun-carriage. 

At three bells precisely a group of ward-room officers 
emerged from the after-hatchway, and seated themselves upon 
camp-stools, in a central position, with the stars and stripes 
for a canopy. That was the royal box. The sailors looked 
round for the Commodore ; but neither Commodore nor Cap- 
tain honored the people with their presence. 

At the call of a bugle the band struck up Hail Columbia , 
the whole audience keeping time, as at Drury Lane, when 
God Save the King is played after a great national victory. 

At the discharge of a marine’s musket the curtain rose, and 
four sailors, in the picturesque garb of Maltese mariners, stag- 
gered on the stage in a feigned state of intoxication. The 
truthfulness of the representation was much heightened by the 
roll of the ship. 

“ The Commodore,” “ Old Luff,” “ The Mayor,” and “ Gin 
and Sugar Sail,” were played to admiration, and received 
great applause. But at the first appearance of that universal 
favorite, Jack Chase, in the chivalric character of “ Percy 
Royal- Mast” the whole audience simultaneously rose to their 
feet, and greeted him with three hearty cheers, that almost 
took the main-top-sail aback. 

Matchless Jack, in full jig, bowed again and again, with 
true quarter-deck grace and self-possession ; and when five or 
six untwisted strands of rope and bunches of oakum were 
thrown to him, as substitutes for bouquets, he took them one by 
one, and gallantly hung them from the buttons of his jacket. 

“ Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! — go on ! go on ! — stop holler- 
ing — hurrah ! — go on !— stop hollering — hurrah !” was now 
heard on all sides, till at last, seeing no end to the enthusiasm 


116 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


of his ardent admirers, Matchless Jack stepped forward, and, 
with his lips moving in pantomime, plunged into the thick of 
the part. Silence soon followed, hut was fifty times broken 
by uncontrollable bursts of applause. At length, when that 
heart-thrilling scene came on, where Percy Royal-Mast res- 
cues fifteen oppressed sailors frc m the watch-house, in the teeth 
of a posse of constables, the audience leaped to their feet, over- 
turned the capstan bars, and to a man hurled their hats on 
the stage in a delirium of delight. Ah Jack, that was a ten- 
stroke indeed ! 

The commotion was now terrific ; all discipline seemed 
gone forever ; the Lieutenants ran in among the men, the 
Captain darted from his cabin, and the Commodore nervously 
questioned the armed sentry at his door as to what the deuce 
the people were about. In the midst of all this, the trumpet 
of the officer-of-the-deck, commanding the top-gallant sails to 
be taken in, was almost completely drowned. A black squall 
was coming down on the weather-bow, and the boatswain’s 
mates bellowed themselves hoarse at the main-hatchway. 
There is no knowing what would have ensued, had not the 
bass drum suddenly been heard, calling all hands to quarters, 
a summons not to be withstood. The sailors pricked their 
ears at it, as horses at the sound of a cracking whip, and con- 
fusedly stumbled up the ladders to their stations. The next 
moment all was silent but the wind, howling like a thousand 
devils in the cordage. 

“ Stand by to reef all three top-sails ! — settle away the hal- 
yards ! — haul out — so : make fast ! — aloft, top-men ! and reef 
away !” 

Thus, in storm and tempest terminated that day’s theatric- 
als. But the sailors never recovered from the disappoint- 
ment of not having the “ True Yankee Sailor ” sung by the 
Irish Captain of the Head. 

And here White- Jacket must moralize a bit. The unwont- 
ed spectacle of the row of gun-room officers mingling' with 
“the people” in applauding a mere seaman like Jack Chase, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


117 


filled me at the time with the most pleasurable emotions. It 
is a sweet thing, thought I, to see these officers confess a hu- 
man brotherhood with us, after all ; a sweet thing to mark 
their cordial appreciation of the manly merits of my matchless 
Jack. Ah ! they are noble fellows all round, and I do not 
know but I have wronged them sometimes in my thoughts. 

Nor was it without similar pleasurable feelings that I wit- 
nessed the temporary rupture of the ship’s stern discipline, con- 
sequent upon the tumult of the theatricals. I thought to my- 
self, this now is as it should be. It is good to shake off, now 
and then, this iron yoke round our necks. And after having 
once permitted us sailors to be a little noisy, in a harmless 
way — somewhat merrily turbulent — the officers can not, with 
any good grace, be so excessively stern and unyielding as be- 
fore. I began to think a man-of-war a man-of-peace-and-good- 
will, after all. But, alas ! disappointment came. 

Next morning the same old scene was enacted at the gang- 
way. And beholding the row of uncompromising-looking 
officers there assembled with the Captain, to witness punish- 
ment — the same officers who had been so cheerfully disposed 
over night — an old sailor touched my shoulder, and said, “ See, 
White- Jacket, all round they have shipped their quarter-deck 
faces again. But this is the way.” 

I afterward learned that this was an old man-of-war’s-man’s 
phrase, expressive of the facility with which a sea-officer falls 
back upon all the severity of his dignity, after a temporary 
suspension of it. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


INTRODUCTORY TO CAPE HORN. 

And now, through drizzling fogs and vapors, and under 
damp, double-reefed top-sails, our wet-decked frigate drew 
nearer and nearer to the squally Cape. 

Who has not heard of it? Cape Horn, Cape Horn — a 
horn indeed, that has tossed many a good ship. Was the de- 
scent of Orpheus, Ulysses, or Dante into Hell, one whit more 
hardy and sublime than the first navigator’s weathering of 
that terrible Cape ? 

Turned on her heel by a fierce West Wind, many an out- 
ward-bound ship has been driven across the Southern Ocean 
to the Cape of Good Hope — that way to seek a passage to the 
Pacific. And that stormy Cape, I doubt not, has sent many 
a fine craft to the bottom, and told no tales. At those ends 
of the earth are no chronicles. What signify the broken spars 
and shrouds that, day after day, are driven before the prows 
of more fortunate vessels ? or the tall masts, imbedded in ice- 
bergs, that are found floating by ? They but hint the old 
story — of ships that have sailed from their ports, and never 
more have been heard of. 

Impracticable Cape ! You may approach it from this direc- 
tion or that — in any way you please — from the East, or from 
the West ; with the wind astern, or abeam, or on the quar- 
ter ; and still Cape Horn is Cape Horn. Cape Horn it is 
that takes the conceit out of fresh-water sailors, and steeps in 
a still salter brine the saltest. Woe betide the tyro ; the fool- 
hardy, Heaven preserve ! 

Your Mediterranean captain, who with a cargo of oranges 
has hitherto made merry runs across the Atlantic, without so 
much as furling a t’ -gallant-sail, oftentimes, off Cape Horn, 


the world in a man-of-war. 


119 


receives a lesson ■which, he carries to the grave ; though the 
grave — as is too often the case — follows so hard on the lesson 
that no benefit comes from the experience. 

Other strangers who draw nigh to this Patagonia termina- 
tion of our Continent, with their souls full of its shipwrecks 
and disasters — top-sails cautiously reefed, and every thing 
guardedly snug — these strangers at first unexpectedly encoun- 
tering a tolerably smooth sea, rashly conclude that the Cape, 
after all, is but a bugbear ; they have been imposed upon by 
fables, and founderings and sinkings hereabouts are all cock- 
and-bull stories. 

“ Out reefs, my hearties,; fore and aft set t’-gallant-sails ? 
stand by to give her the fore-top-mast stun’-sail !” 

But, Captain Bash, those sails of yours were much safer in 
the s&il-maker’s loft. For now, while the heedless craft is 
bounding over the billows, a black cloud rises out of the sea ; 
the sun drops down from the sky; a horrible mist far and 
wide spreads over the water. 

“ Hands by the halyards ! Let go ! Clew up !” 

Too late. 

For ere the ropes’ ends can be cast off from the pins, the 
tornado is blowing down to the bottom of their throats. The 
masts are willows, the sails ribbons, the cordage wool ; the 
whole ship is brewed into the yeast of the gale. 

And now, if, when the first green sea breaks over him, Cap- 
tain Bash is not swept overboard, he has his hands full, be 
sure. In all probability his three masts have gone by the 
board, and, raveled into list, his sails are floating in the air. 
Or, perhaps, the ship broaches to , or is brought by the lee. In 
either case, Heaven help the sailors, their wives, and their 
little ones ; and Heaven help the underwriters. 

Familiarity with danger makes a brave man braver, but 
less daring. Thus with seamen : he who goes the oftenest 
round Cape Horn goes . the most circumspectly. A veteran 
mariner is never deceived by the treacherous breezes which 
sometimes waft him pleasantly toward the latitude of the 


120 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Cape. No sooner does he come within a certain distance of it — 
previously fixed in his own mind — than all hands are turned to 
setting the ship in storm-trim ; and, never mind how light the 
breeze, down come his t’-gallant-yards. He “ bends’ ’ his strong- 
est storm-sails, and lashes every thing on deck securely. The 
ship is then ready for the worst ; and if, in reeling round the 
headland, she receives a broadside, it generally goes well with 
her. If ill, all hands go to the bottom with quiet consciences. 

Among sea-captains, there are some who seem to regard the 
genius of the Cape as a willful, capricious jade, that must be 
courted and coaxed into complaisance. First, they come 
along under easy sail ; do not steer boldly for the headland, 
but tack this way and that — sidling up to it. Now they woo 
the Jezebel with a t’ -gallant-studding-sail ; anon, they depre- 
cate her wrath with double-reefed-top-sails. When, at length, 
her unappeasable fury is fairly aroused, and all round the dis- 
mantled ship the storm howls and howls for days together, 
they still persevere in their efforts. First, they try uncondi- 
tional submission ; furling every rag and heaving to ; laying 
like a log, for the tempest to toss wheresoever it pleases. 

This failing, they set a spencer or try-sail , and shift on the 
other tack. Equally vain ! The gale sings as hoarsely as 
before. At last, the wind comes round fair ; they drop the 
fore-sail ; square the yards, and scud before it : their implac- 
able foe chasing them with tornadoes, as if to show her insens- 
ibility to the last. 

Other ships, without encountering these terrible gales, spend 
week after week endeavoring to turn this boisterous world- 
corner against a continual head-wind. Tacking hither and 
thither, in the language of sailors, they polish the Cape by 
beating about its edges so long. 

Le Mair and Schouten, two Dutchmen, were the first nav- 
igators who weathered Cape Horn. Previous to this, passa- 
ges had been made to the Pacific by the Straits of Magellan ; 
ner, indeed, at that period, was it known to a certainty that 
there was any other route, or that the land now called Terra 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


121 


Del Fuego was an island. A few leagues southward from 
Terra Del Fuego is a cluster of small islands, the Diegoes ; 
between which and the former island are the Straits of Le 
Mair, so called in honor of their discoverer, who first sailed 
through them into the Pacific. Le Mair and Schouten, in 
their small, clumsy vessels, encountered a series of tremendous 
gales, the prelude to the long train of similar hardships which 
most of their followers have experienced. It is a significant 
fact, that Schouten’s vessel, the Horne, which gave its name 
to the Cape, was almost lost in weathering it. 

The next navigator round the Cape was Sir Francis Drake, 
who, on Raleigh’s Expedition, beholding for the first time, 
from the Isthmus of Darien, the “ goodlie South Sea,” like a 
true-born Englishman, vowed, please God, to sail an English 
3 hip thereon ; which the gallant sailor did, to the sore discom- 
fiture of the Spaniards on the coasts of Chili and Peru. 

But perhaps the greatest hardships on record, in making 
this celebrated passage, were those experienced by Lord An- 
son’s squadron in 1736. Three remarkable and most inter- 
esting narratives record their disasters and sufferings. The 
first, jointly written by the carpenter and gunner of the 
Wager ; the second, by young Byron, a midshipman in the 
same ship ; the third, by the chaplain of the Centurion. 
White- Jacket has them all ; and they are fine reading of a 
boisterous March night, with the casement rattling in your 
ear, and the chimney-stacks blowing down upon the pave- 
ment, babbling with rain-drops. 

But if you want the best idea of Cape Horn, get my friend 
Dana’s unmatchable “ Two Years Before the Mast.” But 
you can read, and so you must have read it. His chapters 
describing Cape Horn must have been written with an icicle. 

At the present day the horrors of the Cape have somewhat 
abated. This is owing to a growing familiarity with it ; but, 
more than all, to the improved condition of ships in all re- # 
spccts, and the means now generally in use of preserving the 
health of the crews in times of severe and prolonged exposure. 

F 


CHAPTER XXV. 


THE DOG-DAYS OFF CAPE HORN. 

Colder and colder we are drawing nigh to the Cape. 
Now gregoes, pea jackets, monkey jackets, reefing jackets, 
storm jackets, oil jackets, paint jackets, round jackets, short 
jackets, long jackets, and all manner of jackets, are the order 
of the day, not excepting the immortal white jacket, which 
begins to he sturdily buttoned up to the throat, and pulled 
down vigorously at the skirts, to bring them well over the 
loins. 

But, alas ! those skirts were lamentably scanty ; and though, 
with its quiltings, the jacket was stuffed out about the breasts 
like a Christmas turkey, and of a dry cold day kept the 
wearer warm enough in that vicinity, yet about the loins it 
was shorter than a ballet-dancer's skirts ; so that while my 
chest was in the temperate zone, close adjoining the torrid, 
my hapless thighs were in Nova Zembla, hardly an icicle’s 
toss from the Pole. 

Then, again, the repeated soakings and dryings it had un- 
dergone, had by this time made it shrink woefully all over, 
especially in the arms, so that the wristbands had gradually 
crawled up near to the elbows ; and it required an energetic 
thrust to push the arm through, in drawing the jacket on. 

I endeavored to amend these misfortunes by sewing a sort 
of canvass ruffle round the skirts, by way of a continuation or 
supplement to the original work, and by doing the same with 
the wristbands. 

This is the time for oil-skin suits, dread-naughts, tarred 
trowsers and overalls, sea-boots, comforters, mittens, woolen 
socks, Guernsey frocks, Havre shirts, buffalo-robe shirts, and 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


123 


moose-skin drawers. Every man’s jacket is his wigwam, 
and every man’s hat his caboose. 

Perfect license is now permitted to the men respecting 
their clothing. Whatever they can rake and scrape together 
they put on — swaddling themselves in old sails, and drawing 
old socks over their heads for night-caps. This is the time 
for smiting your chest with your hand, and talking loud to 
keep up the circulation. 

Colder, and colder, and colder, till at last we spoke a fleet 
of icebergs bound North. After that, it was one incessant 
“ cold snap” that almost snapped off* our fingers and toes. 
Cold ! It was cold as Blue Flujin , where sailors say fire 
freezes. 

And now coming up with the latitude of the Cape, we 
stood southward to give it a wide berth, and while so doing 
were becalmed ; ay, becalmed off Cape Horn, which is worse, 
far worse, than being becalmed on the Line. 

Here we lay forty-eight hours, during which the cold was 
intense. I wondered at the; liquid sea, which refused to 
freeze in such a temperature. The clear, cold sky overhead 
looked like a steel-blue cymbal, that might ring, could you 
smite it. Our breath came and went like puffs of smoke 
from pipe-bowls. At first there was a long, gauky swell, 
that obliged us to furl most of the sails, and even send down 
t’-gallant-yards, for fear of pitching them overboard. 

Out of sight of land, at this extremity of both the inhabita- 
ble and uninhabitable world, our peopled frigate, echoing 
with the voices of men, the bleating of lambs, the cackling 
of fowls, the gruntings of pigs, seemed like Noah’s old ark 
itself, becalmed at the climax of the Deluge. 

There was nothing to be done but patiently to await the 
pleasure of the elements, and “ whistle for a wind,” the usual 
practice of seamen in a calm. No fire was allowed, except 
for the indispensable purpose of cooking, and heating bottles 
of water to toast Selvagee’s feet. He who possessed the 
largest stock of vitality, stood the best chance to escape freez- 


124 


WHITE-JACKET: OR, 


ing. It was horrifying. In such weather any man could 
have undergone amputation with great ease, and helped take 
up the arteries himself. 

Indeed, this state of affairs had not lasted quite twenty- 
four hours, when the extreme frigidity of the air, united to 
our increased tendency to inactivity, would very soon have 
rendered some of us subjects for the surgeon and his mates, 
had not a humane proceeding of the Captain suddenly im- 
pelled us to vigorous exercise. 

And here he it said, that the appearance of the Boatswain, 
with his silver whistle to his mouth, at the main hatchway 
of the gun-deck, is always regarded by the crew with the 
utmost curiosity, for this betokens that some general order is 
about to be promulgated through the ship. What now ? is 
the question that runs on from man to man. A short pre- 
liminary whistle is then given by “ Old Yam,” as they call 
him, which whistle serves to collect round him, from their 
various stations, his four mates. Then Yarn, or Pipes, as 
leader of the orchestra, begins a peculiar call, in which his 
assistants join. This over, the order, whatever it may be, 
is loudly sung out and prolonged, till the remotest corner 
echoes again. The Boatswain and his mates are the town- 
criers of a man-of-war. 

The calm had commenced in the afternoon ; and the fol- 
lowing morning the ship’s company were electrified by a gen- 
eral order, thus set forth and declared : “ D'ye hear there , 
fore and aft ! all hands skylark /” 

This mandate, nowadays never used except upon very rare 
occasions, produced the same effect upon the men that Exhil- 
arating Gas would have done, or an extra allowance of “ grog.” 
For a time, the wonted discipline of the ship was broken 
through, and perfect license allowed. It was a Babel here, a 
Bedlam there, and a Pandemonium every where. The The- 
atricals were nothing compared with it. Then the faint- 
hearted and timorous crawled to their hiding-places, and the 
lusty and hold shouted forth their glee. Gangs of men, in all 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


125 


sorts of outlandish habiliments, wild as those worn at some 
crazy carnival, rushed to and fro, seizing upon whomsoever 
they pleased— .warrant-officers and dangerous pugilists except- 
ed — pulling and hauling the luckless tars about, till fairly 
baited into a genial warmth. Some were made fast to, and 
hoisted aloft with a will ; others, mounted upon oars, were 
ridden fore and aft on a rail, to the boisterous mirth of the 
spectators, any one of whom might be the next victim. 
Swings were rigged from the tops, or the masts ; and the most 
reluctant wights being purposely selected, spite of all strug- 
gles, were swung from East to West, in vast arcs of circles, 
till almost breathless. Hornpipes, fandangoes, Donnybrook- 
jigs, reels, and quadrilles, were danced under the very nose of 
the most mighty captain, and upon the very quarter-deck and 
poop. Sparring and wrestling, too, were all the vogue ; Ken- 
tucky bites were given, and the Indian hug exchanged. The 
din frightened the sea-fowl, that flew by with accelerated 
wing. 

It is worth mentioning that several casualties occurred, of 
which, however, I will relate but one. While the “ skylark- 
ing” was at its height, one of the fore- top-men — an ugly-tem- 
pered devil of a Portuguese, looking on — swore that he would 
be the death of any man who laid violent hands upon his in- 
violable person. This threat being overheard, a band of des- 
peradoes, coming up from behind, tripped him up in an instant, 
and in the twinkling of an eye the Portuguese was straddling 
an oar, borne aloft by an uproarious multitude, who rushed 
him along the deck at a rail-road gallop. The living mass of 
arms all round and beneath him was so dense, that every 
time he inclined to one side he was instantly pushed upright, 
but only to fall over again, to receive another push from the 
contrary direction. Presently, disengaging his hands from 
those who held them, the enraged seaman drew from his bo- 
som an iron belaying-pin, and recklessly laid about him to 
right and left. Most of his persecutors fled ; but some eight 
or ten still stood their, ground, and, while bearing him aloft, 


126 


WHITE-JACKET. 


endeavored to wrest the weapon from his hands. In this at- 
tempt, one man was struck on the head, and dropped insensi- 
ble. He was taken up for dead, and carried below to Cuti- 
cle, the surgeon, while the Portuguese was put under guard. 
But the wound did not prove very serious ; and in a few days 
the man was walking about the deck, with his head well 
bandaged. 

This occurrence put an end to the “ skylarking,” further 
head-breaking being strictly prohibited. In due time the 
Portuguese paid the penalty of his rashness at the gangway ; 
while once again the officers shipped their quarter-deck faces. 


/ 






CHAPTER XXVI. 


THE PITCH OF THE CAPE. 

Ere the calm had yet left us, a sail had been discerned 
from the fore-top-mast-head, at a great distance, probably 
three leagues or more. At first it was a mere speck, alto- 
gether out of sight from the deck. By the force of attraction, 
or something else equally inscrutable, two ships in a calm, 
and equally affected by the currents, will always approximate, 
more or less. Though there was not a breath of wind, it was 
not a great while before the strange sail was descried from 
our bulwarks ; gradually, it drew still nearer. 

What was she, and whence ? There is no object which so 
excites interest and conjecture, and, at the same time, baffles 
both, as a sail, seen as a mere speck on these remote seas off 
Cape Horn. 

A breeze ! a breeze ! for lo ! the stranger is now percepti- 
bly nearing the frigate ; the officer’s spy-glass pronounces her 
a full-rigged ship, with all sail set, and coming right down 
to us, though in our own vicinity the calm still reigns. 

She is bringing the wind with her. Hurrah ! Ay, there 
it is ! Behold how mincingly it creeps over the sea, just 
ruffling and crisping it. 

Our top-men were at once sent aloft to loose the sails, and 
presently they faintly began to distend. As yet we hardly 
had steerage-way. Toward sunset the stranger bore down 
before the wind, a complete pyramid of canvass. Never be- 
fore, I venture to say, was Cape Horn so audaciously insulted. 
Stun’-sails alow and aloft ; royals, moon-sails, and every thing 
else. She glided under our stern, within hailing distance, 
and the signal-quarter-master ran up our ensign to the gaff. 


128 


W H I T E-J A C K E T ; OR, 


“ Ship ahoy !” cried the Lieutenant of the Watch, through 
his trumpet. 

“ Halloa !” bawled an old fellow in a green jacket, clapping 
one hand to his mouth, while he held on with the other to 
the mizzen-shrouds. 

“ What ship’s that ?” 

“ The Sultan, Indiaman, from New York, and hound to Cal- 
lao and Canton, sixty days out, all well. What frigate’s that ?” 

“ The United States ship Neversink, homeward bound.” 

“ Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah !” yelled our enthusiastic coun- 
tryman, transported with patriotism. 

By this time the Sultan had swept past, but the Lieutenant 
of the Watch could not withhold a parting admonition. 

“ D’ye hear ? You’d better take in some of your flying- 
kites there. Look out for Cape Horn !” 

But the friendly advice was lost in the now increasing 
wind. With a suddenness by no means unusual in these lati- 
tudes, the light breeze soon became a succession of sharp 
squalls, and our sail-proud braggadacio of an Indiaman was 
observed to let every thing go by the run, his t’-gallant stun’- 
sails and flying-jib taking quick leave of the spars ; the flying- 
jib was swept into the air, rolled together for a few minutes, 
and tossed about in the squalls like a foot-ball. But the wind 
played no such pranks with the more prudently managed can- 
vass of the Neversink, though before many hours it was stir- 
ring times with us. 

About midnight, when the starboard watch, to which I be- 
longed, was below, the boatswain’s whistle was heard, follow- 
ed by the shrill cry for “ All hands take in sail! jump, men, 
and save ship !” 

Springing from our hammocks, we found the frigate leaning 
over to it so steeply, that it was with difficulty we could 
climb the ladders leading to the upper deck. 

Here the scene was awful. The vessel seemed to be sail- 
ing on her side. The mam-deck guns had several days previ- 
ous been run in and housed, and the port-holes closed, but the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


129 


lee carronades on the quarter-deck and forecastle were plung- 
ing through the sea, which undulated over them in milk-white 
billows of foam. With every lurch to leeward the yard-arm- 
ends seemed to dip in the sea, while forward the spray dashed 
over the bows in cataracts, and drenched the men who were 
on the fore-yard. By this time the deck was alive with the 
whole strength of the ship’s company, five hundred men, offi- 
cers and all, mostly clinging to the weather bulwarks. The 
occasional phosphorescence of the yeasting sea cast a glare 
upon their uplifted faces, as a night fire in a populous city 
lights up the panic-stricken crowd. 

In a sudden gale, or when a large quantity of sail is sud- 
denly to be furled, it is the custom for the First Lieutenant 
to take the trumpet from whoever happens then to be officer 
of the deck. But Mad Jack had the trumpet that watch ; 
nor did the First Lieutenant now seek to wrest it from his 
hands. Every eye was upon him, as if we had chosen him 
from among us all, to decide this battle with the elements, by 
single combat with the spirit of the Cape-; for Mad Jack 
was the saving genius of the ship, and so proved himself that 
night. I owe this right hand, that is this moment flying over 
my sheet, and all my present being to Mad Jack. The ship’s 
bows were now butting, battering, ramming, and thundering 
over and upon the head seas, and with a horrible wallowing 
sound our whole hull was rolling in the trough of the foam. 
The gale came athwart the deck, and every sail seemed burst- 
ing with its wild breath. 

All the quarter-masters, and several of the forecastle-men, 
were swarming round the double-wheel on the quarter-deck. 
Some jumping up and down, with their hands upon the spokes ; 
for the whole helm and galvanized keel were fiercely feverish, 
with the life imparted to them by the tempest. 

“Hard up the helm!” shouted Captain Claret, bursting 
from his cabin like a ghost in his night-dress. 

“Damn you!” raged Mad Jack to the quarter-masters; 

“ hard down — hard down, I say, and be damned to you !” 


130 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Contrary orders ! but Mad Jack’s were obeyed. His ob- 
ject was to throw the ship into the wind, so as the better 
to admit of close-reefing the top-sails. But though the hal- 
yards were let go, it was impossible to clew down the yards, 
owing to the enormous horizontal strain on the canvass. It 
now blew a hurricane. The spray flew over the ship in floods. 
The gigantic masts seemed about to snap under the world- 
wide strain of the three entire top-sails. 

“ Clew down ! clew down !” shouted Mad Jack, husky with 
excitement, and in a frenzy, beating his trumpet against one 
of the shrouds. But, owing to the slant of the ship, the thing 
could not be done. It was obvious that before many minutes 
something must go — either sails, rigging, or sticks ; perhaps 
the hull itself, and all hands. 

Presently a voice from the top exclaimed that there was a 
rent in the main-top-sail. And instantly we heard a report 
like two or three muskets discharged together ; the vast sail 
was rent up and down like the Vail of the Temple. This 
saved the main-mast ; for the yard was now clewed down 
with comparative ease, and the top-men laid out to stow the 
shattered canvass. Soon, the two remaining top-sails were 
also clewed down and close reefed. 

Above all the roar of the tempest and the shouts of the 
crew, was heard the dismal tolling of the ship’s bell — almost 
as large as that of a village church — which the violent rolling 
of the ship was occasioning. Imagination can not conceive 
the horror of such a sound in a night- tempest at sea. 

“ Stop that ghost !” roared Mad Jack; “ away, one .of you, 
and wrench off the clapper !” 

But no sooner was this ghost gagged, than a still more ap- 
palling sound was heard, the rolling to and fro of the heavy 
shot, which, on the gun-deck, had broken loose from the 
gun-racks, and converted that part of the ship into an im- 
mense bowling-alley. Some hands were sent down to secure 
them ; but it was as much as their lives were worth. Sev- 
eral were maimed ; and the midshipmen who were ordered 


THE WORLD IN A MANOF-WAR. 


131 


to see the duty performed reported it impossible, until the 
storm abated. 

The most terrific job of all was to furl the main-sail, which, 
at the commencement of the squalls, had been clewed up, 
coaxed and quieted as much as possible with the bunt-lines 
and slab-lines. Mad Jack waited some time for a lull, ere 
he gave an order so perilous to be executed. For to furl this 
enormous sail, in such a gale, required at least fifty men on 
the yard ; whose weight, superadded to that of the ponderous 
stick itself, still further jeopardized their lives. But there 
was no prospect of a cessation of the gale, and the order was 
at last given. 

At this time a hurricane of slanting sleet and hail was de- 
scending upon us ; the rigging was coated with a thin glare 
of ice, formed within the hour. 

“ Aloft, main-yard-men ! and all you main-top-men ! and 
furl the main-sail !” cried Mad Jack. 

I dashed down my hat, slipped out of my quilted jacket 
in an instant, kicked the shoes from my feet, and, with a 
crowd of others, sprang for the rigging. Above the bulwarks 
(which in a frigate are so high as to afiord much protection 
to those on deck) the gale was horrible. The sheer force of 
the wind flattened us to the rigging as we ascended, and 
every hand seemed congealing to the icy shrouds by which 
we held. 

“Up up, my brave hearties!” shouted Mad Jack; and 

up we got, some way or other, all of us, and groped our way 
out on the yard-arms. 

“ Hold on, every mother’s son !” cried an old quarter-gun- 
ner at my side. He was bawling at the top of his compass ; 
but in the gale, he seemed to be whispering ; and I only heard 
him from his being right to windward of me. 

But his hint was unnecessary ; I dug my nails into the 
jack-stays , and swore that nothing but death should part me 
and them until I was able to turn round and look to wind- 
ward. As yet, this was impossible ; I could scarcely heai 


132 


WHITE-JACKET; O R. 


the man to leeward at my elbow ; the wind seemed to snatch 
the words from his mouth and fly away with them to the 
South Pole. 

All this while the sail itself was flying about, sometimes 
catching over our head, and threatening to tear us from the 
yard in spite of all our hugging. For about three quarters 
of an hour we thus hung suspended right over the rampant 
billows, which curled their very crests under the feet of some 
four or five of us clinging to the lee-yard-arm, as if to float us 
from our place. 

Presently, the word passed along the yard from windward, 
that we were ordered to come down and leave the sail to 
blow, since it could not be furled. A midshipman, it seemed, 
had been sent up by the officer of the deck to give the order, 
as no trumpet could be heard where we were. 

Those on the weather yard-arm managed to crawl upon 
the spar and scramble down the rigging ; but with us, upon 
the extreme leeward side, this feat was out of the question ; 
it was, literally, like climbing a precipice to get to windward 
in order to reach the shrouds ; besides, the entire yard was 
now encased in ice, and our hands and feet were so numb 
that we dared not trust our lives to them. Nevertheless, by 
assisting each other, we contrived to throw ourselves prostrate 
along the yard, and embrace it with our arms and legs. In 
this position, the stun’-sail-booms greatly assisted in securing 
our hold. Strange as it may appear, I do not suppose that, 
at this moment, the slightest sensation of fear was felt by one 
man on that yard. We clung to it with might and main ; 
but this was instinct*. The truth is, that, in circumstances 
like these, the sense of fear is annihilated in the unutterable 
sights that fill all the eye, and the sounds that fill all the ear. 
You become identified with the tempest ; your insignificance 
is lost in the riot of the stormy universe around. 

Below us, our noble frigate seemed thrice its real length 

a vast black wedge, opposing its widest end to the combined 
fury of the sea and wind. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


133 


At length the first fury of the gale began to abate, and we 
at once fell to pounding our hands, as a preliminary operation 
to going to work ; for a gang of men had now ascended to 
help secure what was left of the sail ; we somehow packed it 
away, at last, and came down. 

About noon the next day, the gale so moderated that we 
shook two reefs out of the top-sails, set new courses, and stood 
due east, with the wind astern. 

Thus, all the fine weather we encountered after first weigh- 
ing anchor on the pleasant Spanish coast, was but the prelude 
to this one terrific night ; more especially, that treacherous 
calm immediately preceding it. But how could we reach our 
long-promised homes without encountering Cape Horn ? by 
what possibility avoid it ? And though some ships have 
weathered it without these perils, yet by far the greater part 
must encounter them. Lucky it is that it comes about mid- 
way in the homeward-bound passage, so that the sailors have 
time to prepare for it, and time to recover from it after it is 
astern. 

But, sailor or landsman, there is some sort of a Cape Horn 
for all. Boys ! beware of it ; prepare for it in time. Gray- 
beards ! thank God it is passed. And ye lucky livers, to 
whom, by some rare fatality, your Cape Horns are placid as 
Lake Lemans, flatter not yourselves that good luck is judg- 
ment and discretion ; for all the yolk in your eggs, you might 
have foundered and gone down, had the Spirit of the Cape 
said the word. 







CHAPTER XXVII. 

SOME THOUGHTS GROWING OUT OF MAD JACK’S COUNTERMAND- 
ING HIS superior’s ORDER. 

In time of peril, like the needle to the load-stone, obedi- 
ence, irrespective of rank, generally flies to him who is best 
fitted to command. The truth of this seemed evinced in the 
case of Mad Jack, during the gale, and especially at that 
perilous moment when he countermanded the Captain’s order 
at the helm. But every seaman knew, at the time, that the 
Captain’s order was an unwise one in the extreme ; perhaps 
worse than unwise. 

These two orders, given by the Captain and his Lieuten- 
ant, exactly contrasted their characters. By putting the 
helm hard up, the Captain was for scudding ; that is, for 
flying away from the gale. Whereas, Mad Jack was for 
running the ship into its teeth. It is needless to say that, in 
almost all cases of similar hard squalls and gales, the latter 
step, though attended with more appalling appearances, is, in 
reality, the safer of the two, and the most generally adopted. 

Scudding makes you a slave to the blast, which drives you 
headlong before it ; but running up into the wind's eye ena- 
bles you, in a degree, to hold it at bay. Scudding exposes to 
the gale your stern, the weakest part of your hull ; the con- 
trary course presents to it your bows, your strongest part. 
As with ships, so with men ; he who turns his back to his 
foe gives him an advantage. Whereas, our ribbed chests, 
like the ribbed bows of a frigate, are as bulkheads to dam off 
an onset. 

That night, off the pitch of the Cape, Captain Claret was 
hurried forth from his disguises, and, at a manhood-testing 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


135 


conjuncture, appeared in his true colors. A thing which ev- 
ery man in the ship had long suspected that night was proved 
true. Hitherto, in going about the ship, and casting his 
glances among the men, the peculiarly lustreless repose of the 
Captain’s eye — his slow, even, unnecessarily methodical step, 
and the forced firmness of his whole demeanor — though, to a 
casual observer, seemingly expressive of the consciousness of 
command and a desire to strike subjection among the crew 
— all this, to some minds, had only been deemed indications 
of the fact that Captain Claret, while carefully shunning pos- 
itive excesses, continually kept himself in an uncertain equi- 
librio between soberness and its reverse ; which equilibrio 
might be destroyed by the first sharp vicissitude of events. 

And though this is only a surmise, nevertheless, as having 
some knowledge of brandy and mankind, White- Jacket will 
venture to state that, had Captain Claret been an out-and-out 
temperance man, he would never have given that most im- 
prudent order to hard up the helm. He would either have 
held his peace, and stayed in his cabin, like his gracious maj- 
esty the Commodore, or else have anticipated Mad Jack’s or- 
der, and thundered forth “ Hard down the helm!” 

To show how little real sway at times have the severest re- 
strictive laws, and how spontaneous is the instinct of discretion 
in some minds, it must here be added, that though Mad Jack, 
under a hot impulse, had countermanded an order of his su- 
perior officer before his very face, yet that severe Article of 
War, to which he thus rendered himself obnoxious, was never 
enforced against him. Nor, so far as any of the crew ever 
knew, did the Captain even venture to reprimand him for his 
temerity. 

It has been said that Mad Jack himself was a lover of 
strong drink. So he was. But here we only see the virtue 
of being placed in a station constantly demanding a cool head 
and steady nerves, and the misfortune of filling a post that 
does not at all times demand these qualities. So exact and 
methodical in most things was the discipline of the frigate, 


136 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


that, to a certain extent, Captain Claret was exempted from 
personal interposition in many of its current events, and there- 
by, perhaps, was he lulled into security, under the enticing 
lee of his decanter. 

But as for Mad Jack, he must stand his regular watches, 
and pace the quarter-deck at night, and keep a sharp eye to 
windward. Hence, at sea, Mad Jack tried to make a point 
of keeping sober, though in very fine weather he was some- 
times betrayed into a glass too many. But with Cape Horn 
before him, he took the temperance pledge outright, till that 
perilous promontory should be far astern. 

The leading incident of the gale irresistibly invites the 
question, Are there incompetent officers in the American 
navy ? — that is, incompetent to the due performance of what- 
ever duties may devolve upon them. But in that gallant 
marine, which, during the Late War, gained so much of 
what is called glory , can there possibly be to-day incompetent 
officers ? 

As in the camp ashore, so on the quarter-deck at sea — the 
trumpets of one victory drown the muffled drums of a thou- 
sand defeats. And, in degree, this holds true of those events 
of war which are neuter in their character, neither making 
renown nor disgrace. Besides, as a long array of ciphers, led 
by but one solitary numeral, swell, by mere force of aggrega- 
tion, into an immense arithmetical sum, even so, in some brill- 
iant actions, do a crowd of officers, each inefficient in himself, 
aggregate renown when banded together, and led by a num- 
eral Nelson or a Wellington. And the renown of such heroes, 
by outliving themselves, descends as a heritage to their subor- 
dinate survivors. One large brain and one large heart have 
virtue sufficient to magnetize a whole fleet or an army. And 
if all the men who, since the beginning of the world, have 
mainly contributed to the warlike successes or reverses of na- 
tions, were now mustered together, we should be amazed to 
behold but a handful of heroes. For there is no heroism in 
merely running in and out a gun at a port-hole, enveloped in 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


13? 


smoke or vapor, or in firing off muskets in platoons at the word 
of command. This kind of merely manual valor is often horn 
of trepidation at the heart. There may be men, individually 
craven, who, united, may display even temerity. Yet it would 
be false to deny that, in some instances, the lowest privates 
have acquitted themselves with even more gallantry than their 
commodores. True heroism is not in the hand, but in the heart 
and the head. 

But arc there incompetent officers in the gallant American 
navy ? For an American, the question is^of no grateful cast. 
White- Jacket must again evade it, by referring to an histor- 
ical fact in the history of a kindred marine, which, from its 
long standing and magnitude, furnishes many more examples 
of all kinds than our own. And this is the only reason why 
it is ever referred to in this narrative. I thank God I am 
free from all national invidiousness. 

It is indirectly on record in the books of the English Ad- 
miralty, that in the year 1808 — after the death of Lord Nel- 
son — when Lord Collingwood commanded on the Mediter- 
ranean station, and his broken health induced him to solicit a 
furlough, that out of a list of upward of one hundred admirals, 
not a single officer was found who was deemed qualified to 
relieve the applicant with credit to the country. This fact 
Collingwood sealed with his life ; for, hopeless of being recall- 
ed, he shortly after died, worn out, at his post. Now, if this 
was the case in so renowned a marine as England’s, what 
must be inferred with respect to our own ? But herein no 
special disgrace is involved. For the truth is, that to be an 
accomplished and skillful naval generalissimo needs natural 
capabilities of an uncommon order. Still more, it may safely 
be asserted, that, worthily to command even a frigate, requires 
a degree of natural heroism, talent, judgment, and integrity 
that is denied to mediocrity. Yet these qualifications are 
not only required, but demanded ; and no one has a right to 
be a naval captain unless he possesses them. 

Regarding Lieutenants, there are not a few Selvagees and 


138 


WHITE-JACKET; OE, 


Paper Jacks in the American navy. Many Commodores 
know that they have seldom taken a line-of-battle ship to sea, 
without feeling more or less nervousness when some of the 
Lieutenants have the deck at night. 

According to the last Navy Register (1849), there are now 
68 Captains in the American navy, collectively drawing 
about $300,000 annually from the public treasury; also, 
297 Commanders, drawing about $200,000 ; and 377 Lieu- 
tenants, drawing about half a million ; and 451 Midshipmen 
(including Passed-midshipmen), also drawing nearly half a 
million. Considering the known facts, that some of these of- 
ficers are seldom or never sent to sea, owing to the Navy De- 
partment being well aware of their inefficiency ; that others 
are detailed for pen-and-ink work at observatories, and solvers 
of logarithms in the Coast Survey ; while the really meritori- 
ous officers, who are accomplished practical seamen, are known 
to be sent from ship to ship, with but a small interval of a 
furlough ; considering all this, it is not too much to say, that 
no small portion of the million and a half of money above 
mentioned is annually paid to national pensioners in disguise, 
who live on the navy without serving it. 

Nothing like this can be even insinuated against the “for- 
ward officers'" — Boatswains, Gunners, &c. ; nor against the 
petty officers — Captains of the Tops, &c. ; nor against the 
able seamen in the navy. For if any of these are found want- 
ing, they are forthwith disrated or discharged. 

True, all experience teaches that, whenever there is a great 
national establishment, employing large numbers of officials, 
the public must be reconciled to support many incompetent 
men ; for such is the favoritism and nepotism always prevail- 
ing in the purlieus of these establishments, that some incom- 
petent persons are always admitted, to the exclusion of many 
of the worthy. 

Nevertheless, in a country like ours, boasting of the political 
equality of all social conditions, it is a great reproach that 
such a thing as a common seaman rising to the rank of a com- 


139 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

missioned officer in our navy, is nowadays almost unheard-of. 
Yet, in former times, when officers have so risen to rank, they 
have generally proved of signal usefulness in the service, and 
sometimes have reflected solid honor upon the country. In- 
stances in point might be mentioned. 

Is it not well to have our institutions of a piece ? Any 
American landsman may hope to become President of the 
Union-r-commodore of our squadron of states. And every 
American sailor should be placed in such a position, that he 
might freely aspire to command a squadron of frigates. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


EDGING AWAY. 

Right before the wind ! Ay, blow, blow, ye breezes ; so 
long as ye stay fair, and we are homeward bound, what care 
the jolly crew ? 

It is worth mentioning here that, in nineteen cases out of 
twenty, a passage from the Pacific round the Cape is almost 
sure to be much shorter, and attended with less hardship, than 
a passage undertaken from the Atlantic. The reason is, that 
the gales are mostly from the westward, also the currents. 

But, after all, going before the wind in a frigate, in such a 
tempest, has its annoyances and drawbacks, as well as many 
other blessings. The disproportionate weight of metal upon 
the spar and gun decks induces a violent rolling, unknown to 
merchant ships. We rolled and rolled on our way, like the 
world in its orbit, shipping green seas on both sides, until the 
old frigate dipped and went into it like a diving-bell. 

The hatchways of some armed vessels are but poorly se- 
cured in bad weather. This was peculiarly the case with those 
of the Neversink. They were merely spread over with an old 
tarpaulin, cracked and rent in every direction. 

In fair weather, the ship’s company messed on the gun- 
deck ; but as this was now flooded almost continually, we 
were obliged to take our meals upon the berth-deck, the next 
. one below. One day, the messes of the starboard- watch were 
seated here at dinner ; forming little groups, twelve or fifteen 
men in each, reclining about the beef-kids and their pots and 
pans ; when all of a sudden the ship was seized with such a 
paroxysm of rolling that, in a single instant, every thing on 
the berth-deck — pots, kids, sailors, pieces of beef, bread-bags, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


141 


clothes-bags, and barges — were tossed indiscriminately from 
side to side. It was impossible to stay one’s self ; there was 
nothing but the bare deck to cling to, which was slippery with 
the contents of the kids, and heaving under us as if there were 
a volcano in the frigate’s hold. While we were yet sliding 
in uproarious crowds — all seated — the windows of the deck 
opened, and floods of brine descended, simultaneously with a 
violent lee-roll. The shower was hailed by the reckless tars 
with a hurricane of yells ; although, for an instant, I really 
imagined we were about being swamped in the sea, such vol- 
umes of water came cascading down. 

A day or two after, we had made sufficient Easting to stand 
to the northward, which we did, with the wind astern ; thus 
fairly turning the corner without abating our rate of progress. 
Though we had seen no land since leaving Callao, Cape Horn 
was said to be somewhere to the West of us ; and though 
there was no positive evidence of the fact, the weather encoun- 
tered might be accounted pretty good presumptive proof. 

The land near Cape Horn, however, is well worth seeing, 
especially Staten Land. Upon one occasion, the ship in which 
I then happened to be sailing drew near this place from the 
northward, with a fair, free wind, blowing steadily, through 
a bright translucent day, whose air was almost musical with 
the clear, glittering cold. On our starboard beam, like a pile 
of glaciers in Switzerland, lay this Staten Land, gleaming in 
snow-white barrenness and solitude. Unnumbered white al- 
batross were skimming the sea near by, and clouds of smaller 
white wings fell through the air like snow-flakes. High, tow- 
ering in their own turbaned snows, the far-inland pinnacles 
loomed up, like the border of some other world. Flashing 
walls and crystal battlements, like the diamond watch-towers 
along heaven’s furthest frontier. 

After leaving the latitude of the Cape, we had several 
storms of snow ; one night a considerable quantity laid upon 
the decks, and some of the sailors enjoyed the juvenile diver- 
sion of snow-balling. Woe unto the “ middy” who that night 


142 


WHITE-JACKET; OK, 


wen c forward of the booms. Such a target for snow-balls ! 
The throwers could never be known. By some curious sleight 
in hurling the missiles, they seemed to be thrown on board by 
some hoydenish sea-nymphs outside the frigate. 

At daybreak Midshipman Pert went below to the surgeon 
with an alarming wound, gallantly received in discharging his 
perilous duty on the forecastle. The officer of the deck had 
sent him on an errand, to tell the boatswain that he was 
wanted in the captain’s cabin. While in the very act of per- 
forming the exploit of delivering the message, Mr. Pert was 
struck on the nose with a snow-ball of wondrous compactness. 
Upon being informed of the disaster, the rogues expressed the 
liveliest sympathy. Pert was no favorite. 

After one of these storms, it was a curious sight to see the 
men relieving the uppermost deck of its load of snow. It 
became the duty of the captain of each gun to keep his own 
station clean ; accordingly, with an old broom, or “ squilgee,” 
he proceeded to business, often quarreling with his next-door 
neighbors about their scraping their snow on his premises. 
It was like Broadway in winter, the morning after a storm, 
when rival shop-boys are at work cleaning the sidewalk. 

Now and then, by way of variety, we had a fall of hail- 
stones, so big that sometimes we found ourselves dodging 
them. 

The Commodore had a Polynesian servant on board, whose 
services he had engaged at the Society Islands. Unlike his 
countrymen, Wooloo was of a sedate, earnest, and philosophic 
temperament. Having never been outside of the tropics be- 
fore, he found many phenomena off Cape Horn, which ab- 
sorbed his attention, and set him, like other philosophers, to 
feign theories corresponding to the marvels he beheld. At 
the first snow, when he saw the deck covered all over with 
a white powder, as it were, he expanded his eyes into stew- 
pans ; but upon examining the strange substance, he decided 
that this must be a species of superfine flour, such as was 
compounded into his master’s “duffs” and other dainties. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


143 


In vain did an experienced natural philosopher belonging to 
the fore-top maintain before his face, that in this hypothesis 
Wooloo was mistaken ; Wooloo’s opinion remained unchanged 
for some time. 

As for the hailstones, they transported him ; he went about 
with a bucket, making collections, and receiving contributions, 
for the purpose of carrying them home to his sweet-hearts for 
glass beads ; but having put his bucket away, and returning 
to it again, and finding nothing hut a little water, he accused 
the by-standers of stealing his precious stones. , 

This suggests another story concerning him. The first 
time he was given a piece of “ duff” to eat, he was observed 
to pick out very carefully every raisin, and throw it away, 
with a gesture indicative of the highest disgust. It turned 
out that he had taken the raisins for bugs. 

In our man-of-war, this semi-savage, wandering about the 
gun-deck in his barbaric robe, seemed a being from some 
other sphere. His tastes were our abominations : ours his. 
Our creed he rejected : his we. We thought him a loon : 
he fancied us fools. Had the case been reversed ; had we 
been Polynesians and he an American, our mutual opinion of 
each other would still have remained the same. A fact 
proving that neither was wrong, but both right. 


/ 






CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE NIGHT-WATCHES. 

Though leaving the Cape behind us, the severe cold still 
continued, and one of its worst consequences was the almost 
incurable drowsiness induced thereby during the long night- 
watches. All along the decks, huddled between the guns, 
stretched out on the carronade slides, and in every accessible , 
nook and corner, you would see the sailors wrapped in their 
monkey jackets, in a state of half-conscious torpidity, lying 
still and freezing alive, without the power to rise and shake 
themselves. 

“ Up — up, you lazy dogs !” our good-natured Third Lieu- 
tenant, a Virginian, would ciy, rapping them with his speak- 
ing trumpet. “ Get up, and stir about.” 

But in vain. They would rise for an instant, and as soon 
as his back was turned, down they would drop, as if shot 
through the heart. 

Often I have lain thus, when the fact, that if I laid much 
longer I would actually freeze to death, would come over me 
with such overpowering force as to break the icy spell, and 
starting to my feet, I would endeavor to go through the com- 
bined manual and pedal exercise to restore the circulation. 
The first fling of my benumbed arm generally struck me in 
the face, instead of smiting my chest, its true destination. 
But in these cases one’s muscles have their own way. 

In exercising my other extremities, I was obliged to hold on 
to something, and leap with both feet ; for my limbs seemed 
as destitute of joints as a pair of canvass pants spread to dry, 
and frozen stiff. 

When an order was given to haul the braces — which re- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-0 F- W A R. 


145 


quired the strength of the entire watch, some two hundred 
men — a spectator would have supposed that all hands had re 
ceived a stroke of the palsy. Roused from their state of en 
chantment, they came halting and limping across the decks, 
falling against each other, and, for a few moments, almost un- 
able to handle the ropes. The slightest exertion seemed in- 
tolerable ; and frequently a body of eighty or a hundred men, 
summoned to brace the main-yard, would hang over the rope 
for several minutes, waiting for some active fellow to pick it 
up and put it into their hands. Even then, it was some time 
before they were able to do any thing. They made all the 
motions usual in hauling a rope, but it was a long time before 
the yard budged an inch. It was to no purpose that the of- 
ficers swore at them, or sent the midshipmen among them to 
find out who those “ horse-marines ” and “ sogers ” were. The 
sailors were so enveloped in monkey jackets, that in the dark 
night there was no telling one from the other. 

“ Here, you, sir !” cries little Mr. Pert, eagerly catching 
hold of the skirts of an old sea-dog, and trying to turn him 
round, so as to peer under his tarpaulin. “Who are you , 
sir ? What’s your name ?.” 

“ Find out, Milk-and-Water,” was the impertinent rejoinder. 

“ Blast you ! you old rascal ; I’ll have you licked for that ! 
Tell me his name, some of you !” turning round to the by- 
standers. 

“ Gammon !” cries a voice at a distance. 

“ Hang me, but I know you, sir ! and here’s at you !” and, 
so saying, Mr. Pert drops the impenetrable unknown, and 
makes into the crowd after the bodiless voice. But the at- 
tempt to find an owner for that voice is quite as idle as the 
effort to discover the contents of the monkey jacket. 

And here sorrowful mention must be made of something 
which, during this state of affairs, most sorely afflicted me. 
Most monkey jackets are of a dark hue ; mine, as I have fifty 
times repeated, and say again, was white. And thus, in those 
long, dark nights, when it was my quarter- watch on deck, and 

G 


146 


WHITE-JACKET; OH, 


not in the top, and others went skulking and “ sogering” about 
the decks, secure from detection — their identity undiscoverable 
— my own hapless jacket forever proclaimed the name of its 
wearerr. It gave me many a hard job, which otherwise I 
should have escaped. When an officer wanted a man for 
any particular duty — running aloft, say, to communicate some 
slight order to the captains of the tops — how easy, in that 
mob of incognitoes, to individualize “ that white jacket ,” and 
dispatch him on the errand. Then, it would never do for me 
to hang back when the ropes were being pulled. 

Indeed, upon c^l these occasions, such alacrity and cheerful- 
ness was I obliged to display, that I was frequently held up as 
an illustrious example oPactivity, which the rest were called 
upon to emulate. “ Pull — pull ! you lazy lubbers ! Look at 
White- Jacket, there ; pull like him !” 

Oh ! how I execrated my luckless garment ; how often I 
scoured the deck with it to give it a tawny hue ; how often 
I supplicated the inexorable Brush, captain of the paint-room, 
for just one brushful of his invaluable pigment. Frequently, 

I meditated giving it a toss overboard ; but I had not the 
resolution. Jacketless at sea ! Jacketless so near Cape 
Horn ! The thought was unendurable. And, at least, my 
garment was a jacket in name, if not in utility. 

At length I essayed a “ swap.” “ Here, Bob,” said I, as- 
suming all possible suavity, and accosting a mess-mate with 
a sort of diplomatic assumption of superiority, “ suppose I was 
ready to part with this £ grego’ of mine, and take yours in ex- 
change — what would you give me to boot ?” 

“ Give you to boot ?” he exclaimed, with horror ; “ I wouldn’t 
take your infernal jacket for a gift !” 

How I hailed every snow-squall ; for then— blessings on 
them ! — many of the men became white jackets along with 
myself; and, powdered with the flakes, we all looked like 
millers. 

We had six lieutenants, all of whom, with the exception • 
of the First Lieutenant, by turns headed the watches. Three 


THE WORLD In A MAN-OF-WAR. 


147 


of these officers, including Mad Jack, were strict disciplinari- 
ans, and never permitted us to lay down on deck during the 
night. And, to tell the truth, though it caused much growl- 
ing, it was far better for our health to he thus kept on our 
feet. So promenading was all the vogue. For some of us, 
however, it was like pacing in a dungeon ; for, as we had to 
keep at our stations — some at the halyards, some at the braces, 
and elsewhere — and were not allowed to stroll about indefin- 
itely, and fairly take the measure of the ship’s entire keel, we 
were fain to confine ourselves to the space of a very few feet. 
But the worst of this was soon over. The suddenness of the 
change in the temperature consequent on leaving Cape Horn, 
and steering to the northward with a ten-knot breeze, is a 
noteworthy thing. To-day, you are assailed by a blast that 
seems to have edged itself on icebergs ; but in a little more 
than a week, your jacket may be superfluous. 

One word more about Cape Horn, and we have done with it. 

Years hence, when a ship-canal shall have penetrated the 
Isthmus of Darien,, and the traveler be taking his seat in the 
cars at Cape Cod for Astoria, it will be held a thing almost 
incredible that, for so long a period, vessels bound to the Nor’- 
west Coast from New York should, by going round Cape 
Horn, have lengthened their voyages some thousands of miles 
“ In those unenlightened days” (I quote, in advance, the lan- 
guage of some future philosopher), “ entire years were fre- 
quently consumed in making the voyage to and from the Spice 
Islands, the present fashionable watering-place of the beau- 
monde of Oregon.” Such must be our national progress. 

Why, sir, that boy of yours will, one of these days, be send- 
ing your grandson to the salubrious city of Jeddo to spend his 
summer vacations. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


A PEEP THROUGH A PORT-HOLE AT THE SUBTERRANEAN PARTS 
OF A MAN-OF-WAR. 

While now running rapidly away from the bitter coast of 
Patagonia, battling with the night-watches — still cold — as 
best we may; come under the lee of my white-jacket, reader, 
while I tell of the less painful sights to be seen in a frigate. 

A hint has already been conveyed concerning the subterra- • 
nean depths of the Neversink’s hold. But there is no time 
here to speak of the spirit-room , a cellar down in the after- 
hold, where the sailor “ grog” is kept ; nor of the cable-tiers , 
where the great hawsers and chains are piled, as you see them 
at a large ship-chandler’s on shore ; nor of the grocer’s vaults, 
where tierces of sugar, molasses, vinegar, rice, and flour are 
snugly stowed ; nor of the sail-room , full as a sail-maker’s 
loft ashore — piled up with great top-sails and top-gallant-sails, 
all ready-folded in their places, like so many white vests in a 
gentleman’s wardrobe ; nor of the copper and copper-fastened 
magazine, closely packed with kegs of powder, great-gun and 
small-arm cartridges ; nor of the immense shot-lockers, or 
subterranean arsenals, full as a bushel of apples with twenty- 
four-pound balls ; nor of the bread-room , a large apartment, 
tinned all round within to keep out the mice, where the hard 
biscuit destined for the consumption of five hundred men on a 
long voyage is stowed away by the cubic yard ; nor of the 
vast iron tanks for fresh water in the hold, like the reservoir 
lakes at Fairmount, in Philadelphia ; nor of the paint-room , 
where the kegs of white-lead, and casks of linseed oil, and all 
sorts of pots and brushes, are kept ; nor of the armorer's smithy , 
where the ship’s forges and anvils may be heard ringing at 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


149 


times ; I say I have no time to speak of these things, and 
many more places of note. 

But there is one very extensive warehouse among the rest 
that needs special mention — the ship's Yeoman's store-room. 
In the Neversink it was down in the ship’s basement, be- 
neath the berth-deck, and you went to it by way of the Fore- 
passage, a very dim, devious corridor, indeed. Entering — 
say at noonday — you find yourself in a gloomy apartment, lit 
by a solitary lamp. On one side are shelves, filled with balls 
of marline , ratlin-stuff, seizing-stuff, spun-yarn, and numer- 
ous twines of assorted sizes. In another direction you see 
large cases containing heaps of articles, reminding one of a 
shoe-maker’s furnishing-store — wooden serving-mallets , fids, 
toggles, and heavers ; iron prickers and marling-spikes ; in a 
third quarter you see a sort of hardware shop — shelves piled 
with all manner of hooks, bolts, nails, screws, and thimbles ; 
and, in still another direction, you see a block-maker’s store, 
heaped up with lignum-vitse sheeves and wheels. 

Through low arches in the bulk-head beyond, you peep in 
upon distant vaults and catacombs, obscurely lighted in the 
far end, and showing immense coils of new ropes, and other 
bulky articles, stowed in tiers, all savoring of tar. 

But by far the most curious department of these mysterious 
store-rooms is the armory, where the pikes, cutlasses, pistols, 
and belts, forming the arms of the boarders in time of action, 
are hung against the walls, and suspended in thick rows from 
the beams overhead. Here, too, are to be seen scores of Colt’s 
patent revolvers, which, though furnished with but one tube, 
multiply the fatal bullets, as the naval cat-o’-nine-tails, with 
a cannibal cruelty, in one blow nine times multiplies a cul- 
prit’s lashes ; so that, whema sailor is ordered one dozen lash- 
es, the sentence should read one hundred and eight. All these 
arms are kept in the brightest order, wearing a fine polish, and 
may truly be said to reflect credit on the Yeoman and his mates. 

Among the lower grade of officers in a man-of-war, that of 
Yeoman is not the least important. His responsibilities are 


150 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


denoted by his pay. While the petty officers, quarter-gunners, 
captains of the tops, and others, receive but fifteen and eight- 
een dollars a month — but little more than a mere able seaman 
— the Yeoman in an American line-of-battle ship receives forty 
dollars, and in a frigate thirty-five dollars per month. 

He is accountable for all the articles under his charge, and 
on no account must deliver a yard of twine or a tenpenny nail 
to the boatswain or carpenter, unless shown a written requi- 
sition and order from the Senior Lieutenant. The Yeoman 
is to be found burrowing in his under-ground store-rooms all 
the day long, in readiness to serve licensed customers. But 
in the counter, behind which he usually stands, there is no 
place for a till to drop the shillings in, which takes away not 
a little from the most agreeable part of a storekeeper’s duties. 
Nor, among the musty, old account-books in his desk, where 
he registers all expenditures of his stuffs, is there any cash or 
check book. 

The Yeoman of the Neversink was a somewhat odd speci- 
men of a Troglodite. He was a little old man, round-shoul- 
dered, bald-headed, with great goggle-eyes, looking through 
portentous round spectacles, which he called his barnacles. 
He was imbued with a wonderful zeal for the naval service, 
and seemed to think that, in keeping his pistols and cutlasses 
free from rust, he preserved the national honor untarnished. 

After general quarters , it was amusing to watch his anx- 
ious air as the various petty officers restored to him the arms 
used at the martial exercises of the crew. As successive 
bundles would be deposited on his counter, he would count 
over the pistols and cutlasses, like an old housekeeper telling 
over her silver forks and spoons in a pantry before retiring for 
the night. And often, with a sort of dark lantern in his 
hand, he might be seen poking into his furthest vaults and 
cellars, and counting over his great coils of ropes, as if they 
were all jolly puncheons of old Port and Madeira. 

By reason of his incessant watchfulness and unaccountable 
bachelor oddities, it was very difficult for him to retain in his 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


151 


employment the various sailors who, from time to time, were 
billeted with him to do the duty of subalterns. In particular, 
he was always desirous of having at least one steady, fault- 
less young man* of a literary taste, to keep an eye to his account- 
books, and swab out the armory every morning. It was an 
odious business this, to be immured all day in such a bottom- 
less hole, among tarry old ropes and villainous guns and pis- 
tols. It was with peculiar dread that I one day noticed the 
goggle-eyes of Old Revolver , as they called him, fastened upon 
me with a fatal glance of good-will and approbation. He 
had somehow heard of my being a very learned person, who 
could both read and write with extraordinary facility ; and, 
moreover, that I was a rather reserved youth, who kept his 
modest, unassuming merits in the background. But though, 
from the keen sense of my situation as a man-of-war’s-man, 
all this about my keeping myself in the bach ground was 
true enough, yet I had no idea of hiding my diffident merits 
under ground. I became alarmed at the old Yeoman’s gog- 
gling glances, lest he should drag me down into tarry perdi- 
tion in his hideous store-rooms. But this fate was providen- 
tially averted, owing to mysterious causes which I never could 
fathom. 


> 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


THE GUNNER UNDER HATCHES. 

Among such a crowd of marked characters as were to he 
met with on hoard our frigate, many of whom moved in mys- 
terious circles beneath the lowermost deck, and at long inter- 
vals flitted into sight like apparitions, and disappeared again 
for whole weeks together, there were some who inordinately 
excited my curiosity, and whose names, callings, and precise 
abodes I industriously sought out, in order to learn something 
satisfactory concerning them. 

While engaged in these inquiries, often fruitless, or hut par- 
tially gratified, I could not hut regret that there was no pub- 
lic printed Directory for the Neversink, such as they have in 
large towns, containing an alphabetic list of all the crew, and 
where they might he found. Also, in losing myself in some 
remote, dark corner of the bowels of the frigate, in the vicin- 
ity of the various store-rooms, shops, and warehouses, I much 
lamented that no enterprising tar had yet thought of compil- 
ing a j Hand-book of the Neversink , so that the tourist might 
have a reliable guide. 

Indeed, there were several parts of the ship under hatches 
shrouded in mystery, and completely inaccessible to the sailor. 
Wondrous old doors, barred and bolted in dingy bulk-heads, 
must have opened into regions full of interest to a successful 
explorer. 

They looked like the gloomy entrances to family vaults of 
buried dead ; and when I chanced to see some unknown func- 
tionary insert his key, and enter these inexplicable apartments 
with a battle-lantern, as if on solemn official business, I almost 
quaked to dive in with him, and satisfy myself whether these 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


153 


vaults indeed contained the moldering relics of by-gone old 
Commodores and Post-captains. But the habitations of the 
living commodore and captain — their spacious and curtained 
cabins — were themselves almost as sealed volumes, and I 
passed them in hopeless wonderment, like a peasant before a 
prince’s palace. Night and day armed sentries guarded their 
sacred portals, cutlass in hand ; and had I dared to cross their 
path, I would infallibly have been cut down, as if in battle. 
Thus, though for a period of more than a year I was an in- 
mate of this floating box of live-oak, yet there were number- 
less things in it that, to the last, remained wrapped in ob- 
scurity, or concerning which I could only lose myself in vague 
speculations. I was as a Roman Jew of the Middle Ages, 
confined to the Jews’ quarter of the town, and forbidden to 
stray beyond my limits. Or I was as a modern traveler in 
the same famous city, forced to quit it at last without gaining 
ingress to the most mysterious haunts — the innermost shrine 
of the Pope, and the dungeons and cells of the Inquisition. 

But among all the persons and things on board that puz- 
zled me, and filled me most with strange emotions of doubt, 
misgivings, and mystery, was the Gunner — a short, square, 
grim man, his hair and beard grizzled and singed, as if with 
gunpowder. His skin was of a flecky brown, like the stained 
barrel of a fowling-piece, and his hollow eyes burned in his 
head like blue-lights. He it was who had access to many of 
those mysterious vaults I have spoken of. Often he might be 
seen groping his way into them, followed by his subalterns, 
the old quarter-gunners, as if intent upon laying a train of 
powder to blow up the ship. I remembered Guy Fawkes 
and the Parliament-house, and made earnest inquiry whether 
this gunner was a Roman Catholic. I felt relieved when in- 
formed that he was not. 

A little circumstance which one of his mates, once told me 
heightened the gloomy interest with which I regarded his 
chief. He told me that, at periodical intervals, his master the 
Gunner, accompanied by his phalanx, entered into the great 

g* 


154 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Magazine under the Gun-room, of which he had sole custo- 
dy and kept the key, nearly as big as the key of the Bastile, 
and provided with lanterns, something like Sir Humphrey 
Davy’s Safety-lamp for coal mines, proceeded to turn, end 
for end, all the kegs of powder and packages of cartridges 
stored in this innermost explosive vault, lined throughout with 
sheets of copper. In the vestibule of the Magazine, against 
the paneling, were several pegs for slippers, and, before pene- 
trating further than that vestibule, every man of the gunner’s- 
gang silently removed his shoes, for fear that the nails in their 
heels might possibly create a spark, by striking against the 
coppered floor within. Then, with slippered feet and with 
hushed whispers, they stole into the heart of the place. 

This turning of the powder was to preserve its inflamma- 
bility. And surely it was a business full of direful interest, 
to be buried so deep below the sun, handling whole barrels of 
powder, any one of which, touched by the smallest spark, was 
powerful enough to blow up a whole street of warehouses. 

The gunner went by the name of Old Combustibles , though 
I thought this an undignified name for so momentous a person- 
age, who had all our lives in his hand. 

While we lay in Callao, we received from shore several 
barrels of powder. So soon as the launch came alongside 
with them, orders were given to extinguish all lights and all 
fires in the ship ; and the master-at-arms and his corporals 
inspected every deck to see that this order was obeyed ; a 
very prudent precaution, no doubt, but not observed at all in 
the Turkish navy. The Turkish sailors will sit on their 
gun-carriages, tranquilly smoking, while kegs of powder are 
being rolled under their ignited pipe-bowls. This shows the 
great comfort there is in the doctrine of these Fatalists, and 
how such a doctrine, in some things at least, relieves men from 
nervous anxieties. But we are all Fatalists at bottom. Nor 
need we so much marvel at the heroism of that army officer, 
who challenged his personal foe to bestride a barrel of powder 
with him — the match to be placed between them — and be 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


15D 


blown up in good company, for it is pretty certain that the 
whole earth itself is a vast hogshead, full of inflammable mate- 
rials, and which we are always bestriding ; at the same time, 
that all good Christians believe that at any minute the last 
day may come, and the terrible combustion of the entire 
planet ensue. 

As if impressed with a befitting sense of the awfulness of 
his calling, our gunner always wore a fixed expression of 
solemnity, which was heightened by his grizzled hair and 
beard. But what imparted such a sinister look to him, and 
what wrought so upon my imagination concerning this man, 
was a frightful scar crossing his left cheek and forehead. He 
had been almost mortally wounded, they said, with a sabre- <*■ 
cut, during a frigate engagement in the last war with Britain. 

He was the most methodical, exact, and punctual of all 
the forward officers. Among his other duties, it pertained to 
him, while in harbor, to see that at a certain hour in the 
evening one of the great guns was discharged from the fore- 
castle, a ceremony only observed in a flag-ship. And always 
at the precise moment you might behold him blowing his 
match, then applying it ; and with that booming thunder in 
his ear, and the smell of the powder in his hair, he retired to 
his hammock for the night. What dreams he must have 
had! 

The same precision was observed when ordered to fire a 
gun to bring to some ship at sea ; for, true to their name, 
and preserving its applicability, even in times of peace, all 
men-of-war are great bullies on the high seas. They domi- 
neer over the poor merchantmen, and with a hissing hot ball 
sent bowling across the ocean, compel them to stop their 
headway at pleasure. 

It was enough to make you a man of method for life, to 
see the gunner superintending his subalterns, when preparing 
the main-deck batteries for a great national salute. While 
lying in harbor, intelligence reached us of the lamentable 
casualty that befell certain high officers of state, including 


156 


WHITE-JACKET. 


the acting Secretary of the Navy himself, some other mem- 
ber of the President’s cabinet, a Commodore, and others, all 
engaged in experimenting upon a new-fangled engine of war. 
At the same time with the receipt of this sad news, orders 
arrived to fire minute-guns for the deceased head of the naval 
department. Upon this occasion the gunner was more than 
usually ceremonious, in seeing that the long twenty-fours 
were thoroughly loaded and rammed down, and then accu- 
rately marked with chalk, so as to be discharged in undevia- 
ting rotation, first from the larboard side, and then from the 
starboard. 

But as my ears hummed, and all my bones danced in me 
with the reverberating din, and my eyes and nostrils were 
almost suffocated with the smoke, and when I saw this grim 
old gunner firing away so solemnly, I thought it a strange 
mode of honoring a man’s memory who had himself been 
slaughtered by a cannon. Only the smoke, that, after rolling 
in at the port-holes, rapidly drifted away to leeward, and 
was lost to view, seemed truly emblematical touching the 
personage thus honored, since that great non-combatant, the 
Bible, assures us that our life is but a vapor, that quickly 
passeth away. 

/ 










CHAPTER XXXII. 


A DISH OF DUNDERFUNK. 

In men-of-war, the space on the uppermost deck, round 
about the main-mast, is the Police-office, Court-house, and 
yard of execution, where all charges are lodged, causes tried, 
and punishment administered. In frigate phrase, to be brought 
up to the mast , is equivalent to being presented before the 
grand-jury, to see whether a true bill will be found against you. 

From the merciless, inquisitorial baiting , which sailors, 
charged with offences, too often experience at the mast , that 
vicinity is usually known among them as the bull-ring. 

The main-mast, moreover, is the only place where the sail- 
or can hold formal communication with the captain and offi- 
cers. If any one has been robbed ; if any one has been evilly 
entreated ; if any one’s character has been defamed ; if any 
one has a request to present ; if any one has aught important 
for the executive of the ship to know — straight to the main- 
mast he repairs ; and stands there — generally with his hat 
off — waiting the pleasure of the officer of the deck, to advance 
and communicate with him. Often, the most ludicrous scenes 
occur, and the most comical complaints are made. 

One clear, cold morning, while we were yet running away 
from the Cape, a raw-boned, crack-pated Down Easter, be- 
longing to the Waist, made his appearance at the mast, dole- 
fully exhibiting a blackened tin pan, bearing a few crusty 
traces of some sort of a sea-pie, which had been cooked in it. 

“ Well, sir, what now ?” said the Lieutenant of the Deck, 
advancing. 

“ They stole it, sir ; all my nice dunderfunk , sir ; they did, 
sir,” whined the Down Easter, ruefully holding up his pan. 

“ Stole your dundlcfunk ! what’s that ?” 


158 


WHITE-JACKET; OR. 


“ Dunderfunk , sir, dunderfunh ; a cruel nice dish as ever 
man put into him.” 

“ Speak out, sir ; what’s the matter ?” 

“ My dunderfunk , sir — as elegant a dish of dunderfunk as 
you ever see, sir — they stole it, sir !” 

“ Go forward, you rascal !” cried the Lieutenant, in a tow- 
ering rage, “ or else stop your whining. Tell me, what’s the 
matter ?” 

“ Why, sir, them ’ere two fellows, Dobs and Hodnose, stole 
my dunderfunk .” 

“ Once more, sir, I ask what that dundledunk is ? Speak !” 

“ As cruel a nice — ” 

“ Be off, sir ! sheer !” and muttering something about non 
compos mentis , the Lieutenant stalked away ; while the 
Down Easter heat a melancholy retreat, holding up his pan 
like a tambourine, and making dolorous music on it as he went. 

£; Where are you going with that tear in your eye, like a 
traveling rat ?” cried a top-man. 

“ Oh ! he’s going home to Down East,” said another ; “ so 
far eastward, you know, shippy , that they have to pry up the 
sun with a handspike.” 

To make this anecdote plainer, be it said that, at sea, the 
monotonous round of salt beef and pork at the messes of the 
sailors — where but very few of the varieties of the season are 
to he found — induces them to adopt many contrivances in 
order to diversify their meals. Hence the various sea-rolls, 
made dishes, and Mediterranean pies, well known by man-of- 
war’ s-men — Scouse, Lob-scouse, Soft -Tack, Soft -Tommy, 
Skillagalee, Burgoo, Dough -boys, Lob - Dominion, Dog's- 
Body , and lastly, and least known, Dunderfunk; all of which 
come under the general denomination of Manavalins. 

Dunderfunk is made of hard biscuit, hashed and pounded, 
mixed with beef fat, molasses, and water, and baked brown 
in a pan. And to those who are beyond all reach of shore 
delicacies, this dunderfunk, in the feeling language of the 
Down Easter, is certainly “ a cruel nice dish.” 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


159 


Now the only way that a sailor, after preparing his dunder - 
funic , could get it cooked on hoard the Neversink, was by slily 
going to Old Coffee , the ship’s cook, and bribing him to put 
it into his oven. And as some such dishes or other are well 
known to he all the time in the oven, a set of unprincipled 
gourmands are constantly on the look-out for the chance of 
stealing them. Generally, two or three league together, and 
while one engages Old Coffee in some interesting conversation 
touching his wife and family at home, another snatches the 
first thing he can lay hands on in the oven, and rapidly passes 
it to the third man, who at his earliest leisure disappears 
with it. 

In this manner had the Down Easter lost his precious pie, 
and afterward found the empty pan knocking about the fore- 
castle. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


A FLOGGING. 

If you begin the day with a laugh, you may, nevertheless, 
end it with a sob and a sigh. 

Among the many who were exceedingly diverted with the 
scene between the Down Easter and the Lieutenant, none 
laughed more heartily than John, Peter, Mark, and Antone — 
four sailors of the starboard- watch. The same evening these 
four found themselves prisoners in the “ brig,” with a sentry 
standing over them. They were charged with violating a 
well-known law of the ship — having been engaged in one of 
those tangled, general fights sometimes occurring among sail- 
ors. They had nothing to anticipate but a flogging, at the 
captain’s pleasure. 

Toward evening of the next day, they were startled by the 
dread summons of the boatswain and his mates at the princi- 
pal hatchway — a summons that ever sends a shudder through 
every manly heart in a frigate : 

“ All hands witness punishment , ahoy /” 

The hoarseness of the cry, its unrelenting prolongatiQn, its 
being caught up at different points, and sent through the 
lowermost depths of the ship; all this produces a most dis- 
mal effect upon every heart not calloused by long habitua- 
tion to it. 

However much you may desire to absent yourself from the 
scene that ensues, yet behold it you must ; or, at least, stand 
near it you must ; for the regulations enjoin the attendance 
of the entire ship’s company, from the corpulent Captain him- 
self to the smallest boy who strikes the bell. 

“ All hands witness punishment , ahoy /” 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


161 


To the sensitive seaman that summons sounds like a doom. 
He knows that the same law which impels it — the same law 
by which the culprits of the day must suffer ; that by that 
very law he also is liable at any time to be judged and con- 
demned. And the inevitableness of his own presence at the 
scene ; the strong arm that drags him in view of the scourge, 
and holds him there till all is over ; forcing upon his loathing 
eye and soul the sufferings and groans of men who have 
familiarly consorted with him, eaten with him, battled out 
watches with him — men of his own type and badge — all this 
conveys a terrible hint of the omnipotent authority under 
which he lives. Indeed, to such a man the naval summons 
to witness punishment carries a thrill, somewhat akin to what 
we may impute to the quick and the dead, when they shall 
hear the Last Trump, that is to bid them all arise in their 
ranks, and behold the final penalties inflicted upon the sinners 
of our race. 

But it must not he imagined that to all men-of-war’s-men 
this summons conveys such poignant emotions ; hut it is hard 
to decide whether one should he glad or sad that this is not 
the case ; whether it is grateful to know that so much pain 
is avoided, or whether it is far sadder to think that, either 
from constitutional hard-heartedness or the multiplied sear- 
ings of habit, hundreds of men-of-war’s-men have been made 
proof against the sense of degradation, pity, and shame. 

As if in sympathy with the scene to he enacted, the sun, 
which the day previous had merrily flashed upon the tin pan of 
the disconsolate Down Easter, was now setting over the dreary 
waters, veiling itself in vapors. The wind blew hoarsely in 
the cordage ; the seas broke heavily against the bows ; and 
the frigate, staggering under whole top-sails, strained as in 
agony on her way. 

“ All hands witness punishment, ahoy /” 

At the summons the crew crowded round the main-mast ; 
multitudes eager to obtain a good place on the booms, to over- 
look the scene ; many laughing and chatting, others canvass- 


162 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ing the case of the culprits ; some maintaining sad, anxious 
countenanced, or carrying a suppressed indignation in their 
eyes ; a few purposely keeping behind to avoid looking on ; 
in short, among five hundred men, there was every possible 
shade of character. 

All the officers — midshipmen included — stood together in 
a group on the starboard side of the main-mast ; the First 
Lieutenant in advance, and the surgeon, whose special duty 
it is to be present at such times, standing close by his side. 

Presently the Captain came forward from his cabin, and 
stood in the centre of this solemn group, with a small paper 
in his hand. That paper was the daily report of offences, 
regularly laid upon his table every morning or evening, like 
the day’s journal placed by a bachelor’s napkin at breakfast. 

“ Master-at-arms, bring up the prisoners,” he said. 

A few moments elapsed, during which the Captain, now 
clothed in his most dreadful attributes, fixed his eyes severely 
upon the crew, when suddenly a lane formed through the 
crowd of seamen, and the prisoners advanced — the master-at- 
arms, rattan in hand, on one side, and an armed marine on 
the other — and took up their stations at the mast. 

“ You John, you Peter, you Mark, you Antone,” said the 
Captain, “ were yesterday found fighting on the gun-deck. 
Have you any thing to say ?” 

Mark and Antone, two steady, middle-aged men, whom I 
had often admired for their sobriety, replied that they did not 
strike the first blow ; that they had submitted to much be- 
fore they had yielded to their passions ; but as they acknowl- 
edged that they had at last defended themselves, their excuse 
was overruled. 

John — a brutal bully, who, it seems, was the real author 
of the disturbance — was about entering into a long extenua- 
tion, when he was cut short by being made to confess, irre- 
spective of circumstances, that he had been in the fray. 

Peter, a handsome lad about nineteen years old, belonging 
to the mizzen-top, looked pale and tremulous. He was a great 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


163 


favorite in his part of the ship, and especially in his own mess, 
principally composed of lads of his own age. That morning 
two of his young mess-mates had gone to his bag, taken out 
his best clothes, and, obtaining the permission of the marine 
sentry at the “ brig,” had handed them to him, to be put on 
against being summoned to the mast. This was done to pro- 
pitiate the Captain, as most captains love to see a tidy sailor. 
But it would not do. To all his supplications the Captain 
turned a deaf ear. Peter declared that he had been struck 
twice before he had returned a blow. “No matter,” said the 
Captain, “ you struck at last, instead of reporting the case to 
an officer. I allow no man to fight on board here but my- 
self. I do the fighting.” 

“ Now, men,” he added, “you all admit the charge ; you 
know the penalty. Strip ! Quarter-masters, are the grat- 
ings rigged ?” 

The gratings are square frames of barred wood- work, some- 
times placed over the hatch-ways. One of these squares was 
now laid on the deck, close to the ship’s bulwarks, and while 
the remaining preparations were being made, the master-at- 
arms assisted the prisoners in removing their jackets and 
shirts. This done, their shirts were loosely thrown over their 
shoulders. 

• At a sign from the Captain, John, with a shameless leer, 
advanced, and stood passively upon the grating, while the 
bare-headed old quarter-master, with gray hair streaming in 
the wind, bound his feet to the cross-bars, and, stretching out 
his arms over his head, secured them to the hammock-nettings 
above. He then retreated a little space, standing silent. 

Meanwhile, the boatswain stood solemnly on the other side, 
with a green bag in his hand, from which taking four instru- 
ments of punishment, he gave one to each of his mates ; for a 
fresh “ cat,” applied by a fresh hand, is the ceremonious privi- 
lege accorded to every man-of-war culprit. 

At another sign from the Captain, the master-at-arms, step- 
ping up, removed the shirt from the prisoner. At this juncture 


164 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


a wave broke against tbe ship’s side, and dashed the spray 
over his exposed back. But though the air was piercing cold, 
and the water drenched him, John stood still, without a shud- 
der. 

The Captain’s finger was now lifted, and the first boat- 
swain’ s-mate advanced, combing out the nine tails of his cat 
with his hand, and then, sweeping them round his neck, 
brought them with the whole force of his body upon the mark. 
Again, and again, and again ; and at every blow, higher and 
higher rose the long, purple bars on the prisoner’s back. But 
he only bowed over his head, and stood still. Meantime, some 
of the crew whispered among themselves in applause of their 
ship-mate’s nerve ; but the greater part were breathlessly 
silent as the keen scourge hissed through the wintery air, and 
fell with a cutting, wiry sound upon the mark. One dozen 
lashes being applied, the man was taken down, and went 
among the crew with a smile, saying, “ D — n me ! it’s no- 
thing when you’re used to it ! Who wants to fight ?” 

The next was Antone, the Portuguese. At every blow he 
surged from side to side, pouring out a torrent of involuntary 
blasphemies. Never before had- he been heard to curse. 
When cut down, he went among the men, swearing to have 
the life of the Captain. Of course, this was unheard by the 
officers. 

Mark, the third prisoner, only cringed and coughed under 
his punishment. He had some pulmonary complaint. He 
was off duty for several days after the flogging ; but this was 
partly to be imputed to his extreme mental misery. It was 
his first scourging, and he felt the insult more than the injury. 
He became silent and sullen for the rest of the cruise. 

The fourth and last was Peter, the mizzen-top lad. He had 
often boasted that he had never been degraded at the gang- 
way. The day before his cheek had worn its usual red, but 
now no ghost was whiter. As he was being secured to the 
gratings, and the shudderings and creepings of his dazzlingly 
white back were revealed, he turned round his head implor- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


165 


ingly ; but his weeping entreaties and vows of contrition were 
of no avail. “ I would not forgive God Almighty !” cried the 
Captain. The fourth boats wain’ s-mate advanced, and at the 
first blow, the boy, shouting “ My God! Oh! my God!” 
writhed and leaped so as to displace the gratings, and scatter 
the nine tails of the scourge all over his person. At the next 
blow he howled, leaped, and raged in unendurable torture. 

“ What are you stopping for, boatswain’ s-mate ?” cried the 
Captain. “ Lay on !” and the whole dozen was applied. 

“ I don’t care what happens to me now !” wept Peter, go- 
ing among the crew, with blood-shot eyes, as he put on his 
shirt. “ I have been flogged once, and they may do it again, 
if they will. Let them look out for me now !” 

“ Pipe down !” cried the Captain, and the crew slowly dis- 
persed. 

Let us have the charity to believe them — as we do — when 
some Captains in the Navy say, that the thing of all others 
most repulsive to them, in the routine of what they consider 
their duty, is the administration of corporal punishment upon 
the crew ; for, surely, not to feel scarified to the quick at 
these scenes would argue a man but a beast. 

You see a human being, stripped like a slave ; scourged 
worse than a hound. And for what ? For things not essen- 
tially criminal, but only made so by arbitrary laws. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


SOME OF THE EVIL EFFECTS OF FLOGGING. 

There are incidental considerations touching this matter 
of flogging, which exaggerate the evil into a great enormity. 
Many illustrations might he given, but let us be content with 
a few. 

Oie of the arguments advanced by officers of the Navy in 
favor of corporal punishment is this : it can be inflicted in a 
moment ; it consumes no valuable time ; and when the pris- 
oner’s shirt is put on, that is the last of it. Whereas, if an- 
other punishment were substituted, it would probably occasion 
a great waste of time and trouble, besides thereby begetting 
in the sailor an undue idea of his importance. 

Absurd, or worse than absurd, as it may appear, all this is 
true ; and if you start from the same premises with these offi- 
cers, you must admit that they advance an irresistible argu- 
ment. But in accordance with this principle, captains in the 
Navy, to a certain extent, inflict the scourge — which is ever 
at hand — for nearly all degrees of transgression. In offences 
not cognizable by a court martial, little, if any, discrimination 
is shown. It is of a piece with the penal laws that prevailed 
in England some sixty years ago, when one hundred and sixty 
different offences were declared by the statute-book to be capi- 
tal, and the servant-maid who but pilfered a watch was hung 
beside the murderer of a family. 

It is one of the most common punishments for very trivial 
offences in the Navy, to “ stop” a seaman’s grog for a day or 
a week. And as most seamen so cling to their grog, the loss 
of it is generally deemed by them a very serious penalty. You 
will sometimes hear them say, “ I would rather have my 
wind stopped than my grog /” 


THE W pit ED IN 4 MA'N-0 F-W A R. ib7 

But there are some sober seamen that would much rather 
draw the money for it, instead of the grog itself, as provided 
by law ; but they are too often deterred from this by the 
thought of receiving a scourging for some inconsiderable of- 
fence, as a substitute for the stopping of their spirits. This is 
a most serious obstacle to the cause of temperance in the Navy. 
But, in many cases, even the reluctant drawing of his grog can 
not exempt a prudent seaman from ignominy ; for besides the 
formal administering of the “ cat" at the gangway for petty 
offences, he is liable to the “ colt,” or rope’s-end, a bit ratlin- 
stuff, indiscriminately applied — without stripping the victim 
— at any time, and in any part of the ship, at the merest wink 
from the Captain. By an express order of that officer, most 
boatswain’s mates carry the “ colt” coiled in their hats, in 
readiness to be administered at a minute’s warning upon any 
offender. This was the custom in the Neversink. And un- 
til so recent a period as the administration of President Polk, 
when the historian Bancroft, Secretary of the Navy, officially 
interposed, it was an almost universal thing for the officers of 
the watch, at their own discretion, to inflict chastisement 
upon a sailor, and this, too, in the face of the ordinance re- 
stricting the power of flogging solely to Captains and Courts 
Martial. Nor was it a thing unknown for a Lieutenant, in 
a sudden outburst of passion, perhaps inflamed by brandy, or 
smarting under the sense of being disliked or hated by the 
seamen, to order a whole watch of two hundred and fifty men, 
at dead of night, to undergo the indignity of the “ colt-” 

It is believed that, even at the present day, there are in- 
stances of Commanders still violating the law, by delegating 
the power of the colt to subordinates. At all events, it is cer- 
tain that, almost to a man, the Lieutenants in the Navy bit- 
terly rail against the officiousness of Bancroft, in so materially 
abridging their usurped functions by snatching the colt from 
their hands. At the time, they predicted that this rash and 
most ill-judged interference of the Secretary would end in the 
breaking up of all discipline in the Navy. But it has not so 


168 


WHITlB-J ACKET; OR, 


proved. These officers now predict that, if the “ cat” be abol- 
ished, the same unfulfilled prediction would fie verified. 

Concerning the license with which many captains violate 
the express laws laid down by Congress for the government 
of the Navy, a glaring instance may be quoted. For upward 
of forty years there has been on the American Statute-book a 
law prohibiting a Captain from inflicting, on his own author- 
ity, more than twelve lashes at one time. If more are to be 
given, the sentence must be passed by a Court Martial. Yet, 
for nearly half a century, this law has been frequently, and 
with almost perfect impunity, set at naught : though of late, 
through the exertions of Bancroft and others, it has been much 
better observed than formerly ; indeed, at the present day, it 
is generally respected. Still, while the Neversink was lying 
in a South American port, on the cruise now written of, the 
seamen belonging to another American frigate informed us 
that their captain sometimes inflicted, upon his own author- 
ity, eighteen and twenty lashes. It is worth while to state 
that this frigate Was vastly admired by the shore ladies for 
her wonderfully neat appearance. One of her forecastle-men 
told me that he had used up three jack-knives (charged to him 
on the books of the purser) in scraping the belaying-pins and 
the combings of the hatchways. 

It is singular that while the Lieutenants of the Watch in 
American men-of-war so long usurped the power of inflicting 
corporal punishment with the colt , few or no similar abuses 
were known in the English Navy. And though the captain 
of an English armed ship is authorized to inflict, at his own 
discretion, more than a dozen lashes (I think three dozen), 
yet it is to be doubted whether, upon the whole, there is as 
much flogging at present in the English Navy as in the Amer- 
ican. The chivalric Virginian, John Randolph of Roanoke, 
declared, in his place in Congress, that on board of the Ameri- 
can man-of-war that carried him out Embassador to Russia 
he had witnessed more flogging than had taken place on his 
own plantation of five hundred African slaves in ten years 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


169 


Certain it is, from what I have personally seen, that the En- 
glish officers, as a general thing, seem to he -less disliked by 
their crews than the American officers by theirs. The reason 
probably is, that many of them, from their station in life, have 
been more accustomed to social command ; hence, quarter- 
deck authority sits more naturally on them. A coarse, vul- 
gar man, who happens to rise to high naval rank by the exhi- 
bition of talents not incompatible with vulgarity, invariably 
proves a tyrant to his crew. It is a thing that American man- 
of-war’ s-men have often observed, that the Lieutenants from 
the Southern States, the descendants of the old Virginians, 
are much less severe, and much more gentle and gentlemanly 
in command, than the Northern officers, as a class. 

According to the present laws and usages of the Navy, a 
seaman, for the most trivial alleged offences, of which he may 
be entirely innocent, must, without a trial, undergo a penalty 
the traces whereof he carries to the grave ; for to a man-of- 
war’ s-man’s experienced eye the marks of a naval scourging 
with the “ cat” are through life discernible. And with these 
marks on his back, this image of his Creator must rise at the 
Last Day. Yet so untouchable is true dignity, that there 
are cases wherein to be flogged at the gangway is no dis- 
honor ; though, to abase and hurl down the last pride of some 
sailor who has piqued him, be sometimes the secret motive, 
with some malicious officer, in procuring him to be condemned 
to the lash. But this feeling of the innate dignity remaining 
untouched, though outwardly the body be scarred for the 
whole term of the natural life, is one of the hushed things 
buried among the holiest privacies of the soul ; a thing be- 
tween a man’s God and himself ; and forever undiscernible 
by our fellow-men, who account that a degradation which 
seems so to the corporal eye. But what torments must that 
seaman undergo who, while his back bleeds at the gangway, 
bleeds agonized drops of shame from his soul ! Are we not 
justified in immeasurably denouncing this thing ? Join hands 
with me, then ; and, in the name of that Being in whose 

H 


170 


WHITE-JACKET. 


image the flogged sailor is made, let us demand of Legisla- 
tors, by what right they dare profane what God himself ac- 
counts sapred. 

Is it lawful for you to scourge a man that is a Roman? 
asks the intrepid Apostle, well knowing, as a Roman citizen, 
that it was not. And now, eighteen hundred years after, is 
it lawful for you, my countrymen, to scourge a man that is an 
American ? to scourge him round the world in your frigates ? 

It is to no purpose that you apologetically appeal to the 
general depravity of the man-of-war’ s-man. Depravity in the 
oppressed is no apology for the oppressor ; but rather an ad- 
ditional stigma to him, as being, in a large degree, the effect, 
and not the cause and justification of oppression. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


FLOGGING NOT LAWFUL. 

It is next to idle, at the present day, merely to denounce 
an iniquity. Be ours, then, a different task. 

If there are any three things opposed to the genius of the 
American Constitution, they are these : irresponsibility in a 
judge, unlimited discretionary authority in an executive, and 
the union of an irresponsible judge and an unlimited executive 
in one person. 

Yet by virtue of an enactment of Congress, all the Commo- 
dores in the American Navy are obnoxious to these three charg- 
es, so far as concerns the punishment of the sailor for alleged mis- 
demeanors not particularly set forth in the Articles of War. 

Here is the enactment in question. 

XXXII. Of the Articles of War . — “ All crimes commit- 
ted by persons belonging to the Navy, which are not specified 
in the foregoing articles, shall be punished according to the 
laws and customs in such cases at sea.” 

This is the article that, above all others, puts the scourge 
into the hands of the Captain, calls him to no account for its 
exercise, and furnishes him with an ample warrant for inflic- 
tions of cruelty upon the common sailor, hardly credible to 
landsmen. 

By this article the Captain is made a legislator, as well as 
a judge and an executive. So far as it goes, it absolutely 
leaves to his discretion to decide what things shall be consider- 
ed crimes, and what shall be the penalty ; whether an accused 
person has been guilty of actions by him declared to be crimes ; 
and how, when, and where the penalty shall be inflicted. 

In the American Navy there is an everlasting suspension 
of the Habeas Corpus. Upon the bare allegation of miscon- 


172 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


_,duet, there is no law to restrain the Captain from imprisoning 
a seaman, and keeping him confined at his pleasure. While 
I was in the Neversink, the Captain of an American sloop 
of war, from undoubted motives of personal pique, kept a sea- 
man confined in the brig for upward of a month. 

Certainly the necessities of navies warrant a code for its 
government more stringent than the law that governs the 
land ; but that code should conform to the spirit of the polit- 
ical institutions of the country that ordains it. It should not 
convert into slaves some of the citizens of a nation of freemen. 
Such objections can not be urged against the laws of the 
Russian Navy (not essentially different from our own), be- 
cause the laws of that Navy, creating the absolute one-man 
power in the Captain, and vesting in him the authority to 
scourge, conform in spirit to the territorial laws of Russia, 
which is ruled by an autocrat, and whose courts inflict the 
knout upon the subjects of the land. But with us it is dif- 
ferent. Our institutions claim to be based upon broad princi- 
ples of political liberty and equality. Whereas, it would hard- 
ly affect one iota the condition on shipboard of an American 
man-of-war’ s-man, were he transferred to the Russian Navy 
and made a subject of the Czar. 

As a sailor, he shares none of our civil immunities ; the law 
of our soil in no respect accompanies the national floating tim- 
bers grown thereon, and to which he clings as his home. For 
him our Revolution was in vain ; to him our Declaration of 
Independence is a lie. 

It is not sufficiently borne in mind, perhaps, that though" 
the naval code comes under the head of the martial law, yet, 
in time of peace, and in the thousand questions arising between 
man and man on board ship, this code, to a certain extent, may 
not improperly be deemed municipal. With its crew of 800 
or 1000 men, a three-decker is a city on the sea. But in most 
of these matters between man and man, the Captain, instead 
of being a magistrate, dispensing what the law promulgates, 
is an absolute ruler, making and unmaking law as he pleases. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


173 


It will be seen that the XXth of the Articles of War pro- 
vides, that if any person in the Navy negligently perform the 
duties assigned him, he shall suffer such punishment as a 
court martial shall adjudge ; but if the offender be a private 
(common sailor), he may, at the discretion of the Captain, be 
put in irons or flogged. It is needless to say, that in cases 
where an officer commits a trivial violation of this law, a 
court martial is seldom or never called to sit upon his trial ; 
but in the sailor’s case, he is at once condemned to the lash. 
Thus, one set of sea-citizens is exempted from a law that is 
hung in terror over others. What would landsmen think, 
were the State of New York to pass a law against some of- 
fence, affixing a fine as a penalty, and then add to that law 
a section restricting its penal operation to mechanics and day 
laborers, exempting all gentlemen with an income of one 
thousand dollars ? Yet thus, in the spirit of its practical op- 
eration, even thus, stands a good part of the naval laws where- 
in naval flogging is involved. 

But a law should be “ universal,” and include in its possi- 
ble penal operations the very judge himself who gives decis- 
ions upon it ; nay, the very judge who expounds it. Had Sir 
William Blackstone violated the laws of England, he would 
have been brought before the bar over which he had presid- 
ed, and would there have been tried, with the counsel for the 
crown reading to him, perhaps, from a copy of his own Com- 
mentaries. And should he have been found guilty, he would 
have suffered like the meanest subject, “ according to law.” 

How is it in an American frigate ? Let one example suf- 
fice. By the Articles of War, and especially by Article I., 
an American Captain may, and frequently does, inflict a se- 
vere and degrading punishment upon a sailor, while he him- 
self is forever removed from the possibility of undergoing the 
like disgrace ; and, in all probability, from undergoing any 
punishment whatever, even if guilty of the same thing — con- 
tention with his equals, for instance — for which he punishes 
another. Yet both sailor and captain are American citizens. 


174 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Now, in the language of Blackstone, again, there is a law, 
“ coeval with mankind, dictated by God himself, superior in 
obligation to any other, and no human laws are of any valid- 
ity if contrary to this.” That law is the Law of Nature; 
among the three great principles of which Justinian includes 
“ that to every man should be rendered his due.” But we 
have seen that the laws involving flogging in the Navy do 
not render to every man his due, since in some cases they 
indirectly exclude the officers from any punishment whatever, 
and in all cases protect them from the scourge, which is in- 
flicted upon the sailor. Therefore, according to Blackstone 
and Justinian, those laws have no binding force ; and every 
American man-of-war’ s-man would be morally justified in re- 
sisting the scourge to the uttermost ; and, in so resisting, 
would be religiously justified in what would be judicially 
styled “ the act of mutiny” itself. 

If, then, these scourging laws be for any reason necessary, 
make them binding upon all who of right come under their 
sway ; and let us see an honest Commodore, duly authorized 
by Congress, condemning to the lash a transgressing Captain 
by the side of a transgressing sailor. And if the Commodore 
himself prove a transgressor, let us see one of his brother 
Commodores take up the lash against him , even as the 
boatswain’s mates, the navy executioners, are often called 
upon to scourge each other. 

Or will you say that a navy officer is a man, but that an 
American-bom citizen, whose grandsire may have ennobled 
him by pouring out his blood at Bunker Hill — will you say 
that, by entering the service of his country as a common sea- 
man, and standing ready to fight her foes, he thereby loses 
his manhood at the very time he most asserts it ? Will you 
say that, by so doing, he degrades himself to the liability of 
the scourge, but if he tarries ashore in time of danger, he is 
safe from that indignity? All our linked states, all four 
continents of mankind, unite in denouncing such a thought. 

We plant the question, then, on the topmost argument of all. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


175 


Irrespective of incidental considerations, we assert that flog- 
ging in the navy is opposed to the essential dignity of man, 
which no legislator has a right to violate ; that it is oppress- 
ive, and glaringly unequal in its operations ; that it is utterly 
repugnant to the spirit of our democratic institutions ; indeed, 
that it involves a lingering trait of the worst times of a bar- 
barous feudal aristocracy ; in a word, we denounce it as relig- 
iously, morally, and immutably wrong. 

No matter, then, what may be the consequences of its abo- 
lition ; no matter if we have to dismantle our fleets, and our 
unprotected commerce should fall a prey to the spoiler, the 
awful admonitions of justice and humanity demand that abo- 
lition without procrastination ; in a voice that is not to be 
mistaken, demand that abolition to-day. It is not a dollar- 
and-cent question of expediency ; it is a matter of right and 
wrong. And if any man can lay his hand on his heart, and 
solemnly say that this scourging is right, let that man but 
once feel the lash on his own back, and in his agony you 
will hear the apostate call the seventh heavens to witness 
that it is wrong. And, in the name of immortal manhood, 
would to God that every man who upholds this thing were 
scourged at the gangway till he recanted. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


FLOGGING NOT NECESSARY. 

But White- Jacket is ready to come down from the lofty 
mast-head of an eternal principle, and fight you — Commo- 
dores and Captains of the navy — on your own quarter-deck, 
with your own weapons, at your own paces. 

Exempt yourselves from the lash, you take Bible oaths to 
it that it is indispensable for others ; you swear that, without 
the lash, no armed ship can he kept in suitable discipline. 
Be it proved to you, officers, and stamped upon your fore- 
heads, that herein you are utterly wrong. 

“Send them to Collingwood,” said Lord Nelson, “and he 
will bring them to order.” This was the language of that 
renowned Admiral, when his officers reported to him certain 
seamen of the fleet as wholly ungovernable. “ Send them to 
Collingwood.” And who was Collingwood, that, after these 
navy rebels had been imprisoned and scourged without being 
brought to order, Collingwood could convert them to docility ? 

Who Admiral Collingwood was, as an historical hero, his- 
tory herself will tell you ; nor, in whatever triumphal hall 
they may be hanging, will the captured flags of Trafalgar fail 
to rustle at the mention of that name. But what Colling- 
wood was as a disciplinarian on board the ships he command- 
ed perhaps needs to be said. He was an officer, then, who 
held in abhorrence all corporal punishment ; who, though 
seeing more active service than any sea-officer of his time, 
yet, for years together, governed his men without inflicting 
the lash. 

But these seamen of his must have been most exemplary 
saints to have proved docile under so lenient a sway. Were 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


177 


they saints ? Answer, ye jails and alms-houses throughout 
the length and breadth of Great Britain, which, in Colling- 
wood’ s time, were swept clean of the last lingering villain and 
pauper to man his majesty’s fleets. 

Still more, that was a period when the uttermost resources 
of England were taxed to the quick ; when the masts of her 
multiplied fleets almost transplanted her forests, all standing 
to the sea ; when British press-gangs not only boarded for- 
eign ships Qn the high seas, and boarded foreign pier-heads, 
but boarded their own merchantmen at the mouth of the 
Thames, and boarded the very fire-sides along its banks ; 
when Englishmen were knocked down and dragged into the 
navy, like cattle into the slaughter-house, with every mortal 
provocation to a mad desperation against the service that thus 
ran their unwilling heads into the muzzles of the enemy’s can- 
non. This was the time, and these the men that Colling- 
wood governed without the lash. 

I know it has been said that Lord Collingwood began by 
inflicting severe punishments, and afterward ruling his sailors 
by the mere memory of a by-gone terror, which he could at 
pleasure revive ; and that his sailors knew this, and hence 
their good behavior under a lenient sway. But, granting the 
quoted assertion to be true, how comes it that many Ameri- 
can Captains, who, after inflicting as severe punishment as 
ever Collingwood could have authorized — how comes it that 
they , also, have not been able to maintain good order without 
subsequent floggings, after once showing to the crew with 
what terrible attributes they were invested ? But it is noto- 
rious, and a thing that I myself, in several instances, know to 
have been the case, that in the American navy, where corporal 
punishment has been most severe, it has also been most frequent. 

But it is incredible that, with such crews as Lord Colling- 
wood’s — composed, in part, of the most desperate characters, 
the rakings of the jails — it is incredible that such a set of men 
could have been governed by the mere memory of the lash. 
Some other influence must have been brought to bear ; main- 


178 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ly, no doubt, the influence wrought by a powerful brain, and 
a determined, intrepid spirit over a miscellaneous rabble. 

It is well known that Lord Nelson himself, in point of pol- 
icy, was averse to flogging ; and that, too, when he had wit- 
nessed the mutinous effects of government abuses in the navy 
— unknown in our times — and which, to the terror of all En- 
gland, developed themselves at the great mutiny of the Nore : 
an outbreak that for several weeks jeopardized the very exist- 
ence of the British navy. 

But we may press this thing nearly two centuries further 
back, for it is a matter of historical doubt whether, in Robert 
Blake’s time, Cromwell’s great admiral, such a thing as flog- 
ging was known at the gangways of his victorious fleets. And 
as in this matter we can not go further back than to Blake, 
so we can not advance further than to our own time, which 
shows Commodore Stockton, during the recent war with Mex- 
ico, governing the American squadron in the Pacific without 
employing the scourge. 

But if of three famous English Admirals one has abhorred 
flogging, another almost governed his ships without it, and to 
the third it may be supposed to have been unknown, while an 
American Commander has, within the present year almost, 
been enabled to sustain the good discipline of an entire squad- 
ron in time of war without having an instrument of scourging 
on board, what inevitable inferences must be drawn, and how 
disastrous to the mental character of all advocates of navy 
flogging, who may happen to be navy officers themselves. 

It can not have escaped the discernment of any observer 
of mankind, that, in the presence of its conventional inferiors, 
conscious imbecility in power often seeks to carry off that im- 
becility by assumptions of lordly severity. The amount of 
flogging on board an American man-of-war is, in many cases, 
in exact proportion to the professional and intellectual incapa- 
city of her officers to command. Thus, in these cases, the law 
that authorizes flogging does but put a scourge into the hand 
of a fool. In most calamitous instances this has been shown. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


179 


It is a matter of record, that some English ships of war 
have fallen a prey to the enemy through the insubordination 
of the crew, induced by the witless cruelty of their officers ; 
officers so armed by the law that they could inflict that cruel- 
ty without restraint. Nor have there been wanting instances 
where the seamen have ran away with their ships, as in the 
case of the Hermione and Danae, and forever rid themselves 
of the outrageous inflictions of their officers by sacrificing»their 
lives to their fury. 

Events like these aroused the attention of the British pub- 
lic at the time. But it was a tender theme, the public agita- 
tion of which the government was anxious to suppress. Nev- 
ertheless, whenever the thing was privately discussed, these 
terrific mutinies, together with the then prevailing insubordi- 
nation of the men in the navy, were almost universally at- 
tributed to the exasperating system of flogging. And the ne- 
cessity for flogging was generally believed to be directly refer- 
able to the impressment of such crowds of dissatisfied men. 
And in high quarters it was held that if, by any mode, the 
English fleet could be manned without resource to coercive 
measures, then the necessity of flogging would cease. 

“ If we abolish either impressment or flogging, the abolition 
of the other will follow as a matter of course.” This was the 
language of the Edinburgh Review at a still later period, 1824. 

If, then, the necessity of flogging in the British armed ma- 
rine was solely attributed to the impressment of the seamen, 
what faintest shadow of reason is there for the continuance 
of this barbarity in the American service, which is wholly 
freed from the reproach of impressment ? 

It is true that, during a long period of non-impressment, 
and even down to the present day, flogging has been, and still 
is, the law of the English navy. But in things of this kind 
England should be nothing to us, except an example to be 
shunned. Nor should wise legislators wholly govern them- 
selves by precedents, and conclude that, since scourging has 
so long prevailed, some virtue must reside in it. Not so. The 


180 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


world has arrived at a period which renders it the part of 
Wisdom to pay homage to the prospective precedents of the 
Future in preference to those of the Past. The Past is dead, 
and has no resurrection ; hut the Future is endowed with such 
a life, that it lives to us even in anticipation. The Past is, in 
many things, the foe of mankind ; the Future is, in all things, 
our friend. In the Past is no hope ; the Future is both hope 
and fruition. The Past is the text-hook of tyrants ; the Fu- 
ture the Bible of the Free. Those who are solely governed 
by the Past stand like Lot’s wife, crystallized in the act of 
looking backward, and forever incapable of looking before. 

Let us leave the Past, then, to dictate laws to immovable 
China; let us abandon it to the Chinese Legitimists of Eu- 
rope. But for us, we will have another captain to rule over 
us — that captain who ever marches at the head of his troop 
and beckons them forward, not lingering in the rear, and im- 
peding their march with lumbering baggage-wagons of old 
precedents. This is the Past. 

But in many things we Americans are driven to a rejection 
of the maxims of the Past, seeing that, ere long, the van of 
the nations must, of right, belong to ourselves. There are 
occasions when it is for America to make precedents, and not 
to obey them. We should, if possible, prove a teacher to pos- 
terity, instead of being the pupil of by-gone generations. 
More shall come after us than have gone before ; the world 
is not yet middle-aged. 

Escaped from the house of bondage, Israel of old did not 
follow after the ways of the Egyptians. To her was given an 
express dispensation ; to her were given new things under the 
sun. And we Americans are the peculiar, chosen people — 
the Israel of our time ; we bear the ark of the liberties of the 
world. Seventy years ago we escaped from thrall ; and, be- 
sides our first birth-right — embracing one continent of earth — 
God has given to us, for a future inheritance, the broad do- 
mains of the political pagans, that shall yet come and he down 
under the shade of our ark, without bloody hands being lifted. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


18 ) 


God has predestinated, mankind expects, great things from 
our race ; and great things we feel in our souls. The rest of 
the nations must soon he in our rear. We are the pioneers 
of the world ; the advance-guard, sent on through the wilder- 
ness of untried things, to break a new path in the New World 
that is ours. In our youth is our Strength ; in our inexperi- 
ence, our wisdom. At a period when other nations have hut 
lisped, our deep voice is heard afar. Long enough have we 
been skeptics with regard to ourselves, and doubted whether, 
indeed, the political Messiah had come. But he has come in 
us, if we would but give utterance to his promptings. And 
let us always remember that with ourselves, almost for the 
first time in the history of earth, national selfishness is un- 
bounded philanthropy ; for we can not do a good to America 
but we give alms to the world. 






CHAPTER XXXVII. 


SOME SUPERIOR OLD “LONDON DOCK” FROM THE WINE-COOL- 
ERS OF NEPTUNE. 

We had just slid into pleasant weather, drawing near to 
the Tropics, when all hands were thrown into a wonderful 
excitement by an event that eloquently appealed to many 
palates. 

A man at the fore-top-sail-yard sung out that there were 
eight or ten dark objects floating on the sea, some three points 
off our lee-how. 

“ Keep her off three points !” cried Captain Claret, to the 
quarter-master at the cun. 

And thus, with all our batteries, store-rooms, and five hund- 
red men, with their baggage, and beds, and provisions, at one 
move of a round bit of mahogany, our great-embattled ark 
edged away for the strangers, as easily as a boy turns to the 
right or left in pursuit of insects in the field. 

Directly the man on the top-sail-yard reported the dark ob- 
jects to be hogsheads. Instantly all the top-men were strain- 
ing their eyes, in delirious expectation of having their long 
grog-fast broken at last, and that, too, by what seemed an 
almost miraculous intervention. It was a curious circum- 
stance that, without knowing the contents of the hogsheads, 
they yet seemed certain that the staves encompassed the thing 
they longed for. 

Sail was now shortened, our headway was stopped, and a 
cutter was lowered, with orders to tow the fleet of strangers 
alongside. The men sprang to their oars with a will, and 
soon five goodly puncheons lay wallowing in the sea, just un- 
der the main-chains. We got overboard the slings, and hoist- 
ed them out of the water. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


183 


It was a sight that Bacchus and his bacchanals would have 
gloated over. Each puncheon was of a deep-green color, so 
covered with minute barnacles and shell-fish, and streaming 
with sea- weed, that it needed long searching to find out their 
bung-holes ; they looked like venerable old loggerhead-turtles v 
How long they had been tossing about, and making voyages 
for the benefit of the flavor of their contents, no one could 
tell. In trying to raft them ashore, or on board of some mer- 
chant-ship, they must have drifted off to sea. This we in- 
ferred from the ropes that lengthwise united them, and which, 
from one point of view, made them resemble a long sea-ser- 
pent. They were struck into the gun-deck, where the eager 
crowd being kept off by sentries, the cooper w r as called with 
his tools. 

“ Bung up, and bilge free !” he cried, in an ecstasy, flour- 
ishing his driver and hammer. 

Upon clearing away the barnacles and moss, a flat sort of 
shell-fish was found, closely adhering, like a Califomia-shell, 
right over one of the bungs. Doubtless this shell-fish had 
there taken up his quarters, and thrown his own body into the 
breach, in order the better to preserve the precious contents 
of the cask. The by-standers were breathless, when at last 
this puncheon was canted over and a tin-pot held to the ori- 
fice. What was to come forth ? salt-water or wine ? But 
a rich purple tide soon settled the question, and the lieutenant 
assigned to taste it, with a loud and satisfactory smack of his 
lips, pronounced it Port ! 

“ Oporto !” cried Mad Jack, “ and no mistake !” 

But, to the surprise, grief, and consternation of the sailors, 
an order now came from the quarter-deck to “ strike the stran- 
gers down into the main-hold !” This proceeding occasioned 
all sorts of censorious observations upon the Captain, who, of 
course, had authorized it. 

It must be related here that, on the passage out from 
home, the Neversink had touched at Madeira ; and there, as 
is often the case with men-of-war, the Commodore and Cap- 


184 


WHITE-JACKET. 


tain had laid in a goodly stock of wines for their own private 
tables, and the benefit of their foreign visitors. And although 
the Commodore was a small, spare man, who evidently emp- 
tied but few glasses, yet Captain Claret was a portly gentle- 
man, with a crimson face, whose father had fought at the 
battle of the Brandywine, and whose brother had commanded 
the well-known frigate named in honor of that engagement. 
And his whole appearance evinced that Captain Claret him- 
self had fought many Brandywine battles ashore in honor of 
his sire’s memory, and commanded in many bloodless Brandy- 
wine actions at sea. 

It was therefore with some savor of provocation that the 
sailors held forth on the ungenerous conduct of Captain 
Claret, in stepping in between them and Providence, as it 
were, which by this lucky windfall, they held, seemed bent 
upon relieving their necessities ; while Captain Claret him- 
self, with an inexhaustible cellar, emptied his Madeira de- 
canters at his leisure. 

But next day all hands were electrified by the old familiar 
sound — so long hushed — of the drum rolling to grog. 

After that the port was served out twice a day, till all was 
expended. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


THE CHAPLAIN AND CHAPEL IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

The next day was Sunday ; a fact set down in the alma- 
nac, spite of merchant seamen’s maxim, that there are no 
Siindays off soundings. 

No Sundays off soundings , indeed ! No Sundays on 
shipboard ! You may as well say there should he no Sun- 
days in churches ; for is not a ship modeled after a church ? 
has it not three spires — three steeples ? yea, and on the gun- 
deck, a hell and a belfry ? And does not that hell merrily 
peal every Sunday morning, to summon the crew to devo- 
tions ? 

At any rate, there were Sundays on hoard this particular 
frigate of ours, and a clergyman also. He was a slender, 
middle-aged man, of an amiable deportment and irreproacha- 
ble conversation ; but I must say, that his sermons were but 
ill calculated to benefit the Crew. He had drank at the 
mystic fountain of Plato ; his head had been turned by the 
Germans ; and this I will say, that White- Jacket himself 
saw him with Coleridge’s Biographia Literaria in his hand. 

Fancy, now, this transcendental divine standing behind a 
gun-carriage on the main-deck, and addressing five hundred 
salt-sea sinners upon the psychological phenomena of the 
soul, and the ontological necessity of every sailor’s saving it 
at all hazards. He enlarged upon the follies of the ancient 
philosophers ; learnedly alluded to the Phcedon of Plato ; ex- 
posed the follies of Simplicius’s Commentary on Aristotle’s 
“ De Ccelo,” by arraying against that clever Pagan author 
the admired tract of Tertullian — De Prcescriptionibus Hce- 
reticorum — and concluded by a Sanscrit invocation. He was 


186 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


particularly hard upon the Gnostics and Marcionites of the 
second century of the Christian era ; hut he never, in the 
remotest manner, attacked the every-day vices of the nine- 
teenth century, as eminently illustrated in our man-of-war 
world. Concerning drunkenness, fighting, flogging, and op- 
pression — things expressly or impliedly prohibited by Chris- 
tianity — he never said aught. But the most mighty Com- 
modore and Captain sat before him ; and in general, if, in a 
monarchy, the state form the audience of the church, little 
evangelical piety will be preached. Hence, the harmless, 
non-committal abstrusities of our Chaplain were not to be 
wondered at. He was no Massillon, to thunder forth his 
ecclesiastical rhetoric, even when a Louis le Grand was en- 
throned ameng his congregation. Nor did the chaplains who 
preached on the quarter-deck of Lord Nelson ever allude to 
the guilty Felix, nor to Delilah, nor practically reason of 
righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, when that 
renowned Admiral sat, sword-belted, before them. 

During these Sunday discourses, the officers always sat in a 
circle round the chaplain, and, with a business-like air, stead- 
ily preserved the utmost propriety. In particular, our old 
Commodore himself made a point of looking intensely edified; 
and not a sailor on board but believed that the Commodore, 
being the greatest man present, must alone comprehend the 
mystic sentences that fell from our parson’s lips. 

Of all the noble lords in the ward-room, this lord-spiritual, 
with the exception of the Purser, was in the highest favor 
with the Commodore, who frequently conversed with him in 
a close and confidential manner. Nor, upon reflection, was 
this to be marveled at, seeing how efficacious, in all des- 
potic governments, it is for the throne and altar to go hand-in- 
hand. 

The accommodations of our chapel were very poor. We 
had nothing to sit on but the great gun-rammers and capstan- 
bars, placed horizontally upon shot-boxes. These seats were 
exceedingly uncomfortable, wearing out our trowsers and our 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


187 


tempers, and, no doubt, impeded the conversion of many val- 
uable souls. 

To say the truth, man-of-war’ s-men, in general, make but 
poor auditors upon these occasions, and adopt every possible 
means to elude them. Often the boatswain’s-mates were 
obliged to drive the men to service, violently swearing upon 
these occasions, as upon every other. 

“ Go to prayers, d — n you ! To prayers, you rascals — to 
prayers !” In this clerical invitation Captain Claret would 
frequently unite. 

At this J ack Chase would sometimes make merry. “ Come, 
boys, don’t hang back,” he would say; “ come, let us go hear 
the parson talk about his Lord High Admiral Plato, and Com- 
modore Socrates.” 

But, in one instance, grave exception was taken to this 
summons. A remarkably serious, but bigoted seaman, a sheet- 
anchor-man — whose private devotions may hereafter be allud- 
ed to — once touched his hat to the Captain, and respectfully 
said, “ Sir, I am a Baptist ; the chaplain is an Episcopalian ; 
his form of worship is not mine ; I do not believe with him, 
and it is against my conscience to be under his ministry. 
May I be allowed, sir, not to attend service on the half-deck ?” 

“ You will be allowed, sir !” said the Captain, haughtily, 
“ to obey the laws of the ship. If you absent yourself from 
prayers on Sunday mornings, you know the penalty.” 

According to the Articles of War, the Captain was per- 
fectly right ; but if any law requiring an American to attend 
divine service against his will be a law respecting the estab- 
lishment of religion, then the Articles of War are, in this one 
particular, opposed to the American Constitution, which ex- 
pressly says, “ Congress shall make no law respecting the estab- 
lishment of religion, or the free exercise thereof.” But this is 
only one of several things in which the Articles of War are 
repugnant to that instrument. They will be glanced at in an- 
other part of the narrative. 

The motive which prompts the introduction of chaplains 


188 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


into the Navy can not but be warmly responded to by every 
Christian. But it does not follow, that because chaplains 
are to be found in men-of-war, that, under the present sys- 
tem, they achieve much good, or that, under any other, they 
ever will. 

How can it be expected that the religion of peace should 
flourish in an oaken castle of war ? How can it be expected 
that the clergyman, whose pulpit is a forty-two-pounder, should 
convert sinners to a faith that enjoins them to turn the right 
cheek when the left is smitten ? How is it to be expected 
that when, according to the XLII. of the Articles of War, 
as they now stand unrepealed on the Statute Book, “ a bounty 
shall be paid” (to the officers and crew) “ by the United States 
government of $20 for each person on board any ship of an 
enemy which shall be sunk or destroyed by any United States 
ship and when, by a subsequent section (vii.), it is provid- 
ed, among other apportionings, that the chaplain shall receive 
“ two twentieths” of this price paid for sinking and destroy- 
ing ships full of human beings ? How is it to be expected 
that a clergyman, thus provided for, should prove efficacious 
in enlarging upon the criminality of Judas, who, for thirty 
pieces of silver, betrayed his Master ? 

Although, by the regulations of the Navy, each seaman’s 
mess on board the Neversink was furnished with a Bible, these 
Bibles were seldom or never to be seen, except on Sunday 
mornings, when usage demands that they shall be exhibited 
by the cooks of the messes, when the master-at-arms goes his 
rounds on the berth-deck. At such times, they usually sur- 
mounted a highly polished tin-pot placed on the lid of the 
chest. 

Yet, for all this, the Christianity of man-of-war’s-men, and 
their disposition to contribute to pious enterprises, are often 
relied upon. Several times subscription papers were circu- 
lated among the crew of the Neversink, while in harbor, under 
the direct patronage of the Chaplain. One was for the pur- 
pose of building a seaman’s chapel in China ; another to pay 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


189 


the salary of a tract-distributor in Greece ; a third to raise 
a fund for the benefit of an African Colonization Society. 

Where the Captain himself is a moral man, he makes a 
far better chaplain for his crew than any clergyman can be. 
This is sometimes illustrated in the case of sloops of war and 
armed brigs, which are not allowed a regular chaplain. I 
have known one crew, who were warmly attached to a naval 
commander worthy of their love, who have mustered even 
with alacrity to the call to prayer ; and when their Captain 
would read the Church of England service to them, would 
. present a congregation not to be surpassed for earnestness and 
devotion by any Scottish Kirk. It seemed like family devo- 
tions, where the head of the house is foremost in confessing 
himself before his Maker. But our own hearts are our best 
prayer-rooms, and the chaplains who can most help us are our- 
selves. 


THE 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

FRIGATE IN HARBOR. THE BOATS. GRAND STATE RE- 

CEPTION OF THE COMMODORE. 

In good time we were up with the parallel of Rio de Ja- 
neiro, and, standing in for the land, the mist soon cleared ; and 
high aloft the famed Suga? Loaf pinnacle was seen, our bow- 
sprit pointing for it straight as a die. 

As we glided on toward our anchorage, the bands of the 
various men-of-war in harbor saluted us with national airs, 
and gallantly lowered their ensigns. Nothing can exceed the 
courteous etiquette of these ships, of all nations, in greeting 
their brethren. Of all men, your accomplished duellist is gen- 
erally the most polite. 

We lay in Rio some weeks, lazily taking in stores and 
otherwise preparing for the passage home. But though Rio 
is one of the most magnificent bays in the world ; though 
the city itself contains many striking objects ; and though 
much might be said of the Sugar Loaf and Signal Hill 
heights ; and the little islet of Lucia ; and the fortified Ihla 
Dos Cobras, or Isle of the Snakes (though the only anacon- 
das and adders now found in the arsenals there are great guns 
and pistols) ; and Lord Wood’s Nose — a lofty eminence said 
by seamen to resemble his lordship’s conch-shell; and the 
Prays do Flamingo — a noble tract of beach, so called from its 
having been the resort, in olden times, of those gorgeous birds ; 
and the charming Bay of Botofogo, which, spite of its name, 
is fragrant as the neighboring Larangieros, or Valley of the 
Oranges ; and the green Gloria Hill, surmounted by the bel- 
fries of the queenly Church of Nossa Senora de Gloria ; and 
the iron-gray Benedictine convent near by ; and the fine drive 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


1.91 


and promenade, Passeo Publico ; and the massive arch-over- 
arch aqueduct, Arcos de Carico ; and the Emperor’s Palace ; 
and the Empress’s Gardens ; and the fine Church de Cande- 
laria ; and the gilded throne on wheels, drawn by eight silken, 
silver-belled mules, in which, of pleasant evenings, his Impe- 
rial Majesty is driven out of town to his Moorish villa of St. 
Christova — ay, though much might be said of all this, yet 
must I forbear, if I may, and adhere to my one proper object, 
the world in a man-of-war. 

Behold, now, the Neversink under a new aspect. With 
all her batteries, she is tranquilly lying in harbor, surrounded 
by English, French, Dutch, Portuguese, and Brazilian sev- 
enty-fours, moored in the deep-green water, close under the 
lee of that oblong, castellated mass of rock, Ilha Dos Cobras, 
which, with its port-holes and lofty flag-stafis, looks like an- 
other man-of-war, fast anchored in the bay. But what is an 
insular fortress, indeed, but an embattled land-slide into the 
sea from the world Gibraltars and Quebecs ? And what a 
main-land fortress but a few decks of a line-of-battle ship 
transplanted ashore ? They are all one — all, as King David, 
men-of-war from their youth. 

Ay, behold now the Neversink at her anchors, in many 
respects presenting a different appearance from what she pre- 
sented at sea. Nor is the routine of life on board the same. 

At sea there is more to employ the sailors, and less tempta- 
tion to violations of the law. Whereas, in port, unless some 
particular service engages them, they lead the laziest of lives, 
beset by all the allurements of the shore, though perhaps that 
shore they may never touch. 

Unless you happen to belong to one of the numerous boats, 
which, in a man-of-war in harbor, are continually plying to 
and from the land, you are mostly thrown upon your own re- 
sources to while away the time. Whole days frequently 
pass without your being individually called upon to lift a 
finger ; for though, in the merchant-service, they make a 
point of keeping the men always busy about something or oth- 


192 


WHITE-JACKET; OB, 


er, yet, to employ five hundred sailors when there is nothing 
definite to be done wholly surpasses the ingenuity of any First 
Lieutenant in the Navy. 

As mention has just been made of the numerous boats em- 
ployed in harbor, something more may as well be put down 
concerning them. Our frigate carried a very large boat — as 
big as a small sloop — called a launch , which was generally 
used for getting off wood, water, and other bulky articles. 
Besides this, she carried four boats of an arithmetical progres- 
sion in point of size — the largest being known as the first cut- 
ter, the next largest the second cutter, then the third and 
fourtlf cutters. She also carried a Commodore’s Barge, a 
Captain’s Gig, and a “ dingy,” a small yawl, with a crew of 
apprentice boys. All these boats, except the “ dingy,” had 
their regular crews, who were subordinate to their cockswains 
— 'petty officers , receiving pay in addition to their seaman’s 
wages. 

The launch was manned by the old Tritons of the fore- 
castle, who were no ways particular about their dress, while 
the other boats — commissioned for genteeler duties — were 
rowed by young fellows, mostly, who had a dandy eye to their 
personal appearance. Above all, the officers see to it that 
the Commodore’s Barge and the Captain’s Gig are manned 
by gentlemanly youths, who may do credit to their country, 
and form agreeable objects for the eyes of the Commodore or 
Captain to repose upon as he tranquilly sits in the stern, when 
pulled ashore by his barge-men or gig-men, as the case may 
be. Some sailors are very fond of belonging to the boats, and 
deem it a great honor to be a Commodore's bargeman ; but 
others, perceiving no particular distinction in that office, do 
not court it so much. 

On the second day after arriving at Bio, one of the gig- 
men fell sick, and, to my no small concern, I found myself 
temporarily appointed to his place. 

“ Come, White-Jacket, rig yourself in white — that’s the 
gig’s uniform to-day ; you are a gig-man, my boy — give ye 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


193 


joy !” This was the first announcement of the fact that I 
heard ; but soon after it was officially ratified. 

I was about to seek the First Lieutenant, and plead the 
scantiness of my wardrobe, which wholly disqualified me to 
fill so distinguished a station, when I heard the bugler call 
away the “ gig and, without more ado, I slipped into a clean 
frock, which a messmate doffed for my benefit, and soon after 
found myself pulling off his High Mightiness, the Captain, to 
an English seventy-four. 

As we were bounding along, the cockswain suddenly cried 
“ Oars !” At the word every oar was suspended in the air, 
while our Commodore’s barge floated by, bearing that digni- 
tary himself. At the sight, Captain Claret removed his cha- 
peau, and saluted profoundly, our boat laying motionless on 
the water. But the barge never stopped ; and the Commo- 
dore made but a slight return to the obsequious salute he had 
received. 

We then resumed rowing, and presently I heard “ Oars !” 
again ; but from another boat, the second cutter, which turn- 
ed out to be carrying a Lieutenant ashore. It was now Cap- 
tain Claret’s turn to be honored. The cutter lay still, and 
the Lieutenant off hat ; while the Captain only nodded, and 
we kept on our way. 

This naval etiquette is very much like the etiquette at the 
Grand Porte of Constantinople, where, after washing the Sub- 
lime Sultan’s feet, the Grand Vizier avenges himself on an 
Emir, who does the same office for him. 

When we arrived aboard the English seventy-four, the 
Captain was received with the usual honors, and the gig’s 
crew were conducted below, and hospitably regaled with some 
spirits, served out by order of the officer of the deck. 

Soon after, the English crew went to quarters ; and as they 
stood up at their guns, all along the main-deck, a row of beef- 
fed Britons, stalwart-looking fellows, I was struck with the 
contrast they afforded to similar sights on board of the Never- 
sink. 


I 


194 


WHITE-JACKET; OK, 


For on board of us our “ quarters ” showed an array of rath- 
er slender, lean-cheeked chaps. But then I made no doubt, 
that, in a sea-tussle, these lantern-jawed varlets would have 
approved themselves as slender Damascus blades, nimble and 
flexible ; whereas these Britons would have been, perhaps, as 
sturdy broadswords. Yet every one remembers that story of 
Saladin and Bichard trying their respective blades ; how gal- 
lant Bichard clove an anvil in twain, or something quite as 
ponderous, and Saladin elegantly severed a cushion ; so that 
the two monarchs were even — each excelling in his way — 
though, unfortunately for my simile, in a patriotic point of 
view, Bichard whipped Saladin’ s armies in the end. 

There happened to be a lord on board of this ship — the 
younger son of an earl, they told me. He was a fine-looking 
fellow. I chanced to stand by when he put a question to an 
Irish captain of a gun ; upon the seaman’s inadvertently say- 
ing sir to him, his lordship looked daggers at the slight ; and 
the sailor, touching his hat a thousand times, said, “ Pardon, 
your honor ; I meant to say my lord , sir !” 

I was much pleased with an old white-headed musician, 
who stood at the main hatchway, with his enormous bass 
drum full before him, and thumping it sturdily to the tune of 
“ God Save the King !” though small mercy did he have on 
his drum-heads. Two little boys were clashing cymbals, and 
another was blowing a fife, with his cheeks puffed out like 
the plumpest of his country’s plum-puddings. 

When we returned from this trip, there again took place 
that ceremonious reception of our captain on board the vessel 
he commanded, which always had struck me as exceedingly 
diverting. 

In the first place, while in port, one of the quarter-masters 
is always stationed on the poop with a spy-glass, to look out 
for all boats approaching, and report the same to the officer 
of the deck ; also, who it is that may be coming in them ; so 
that preparations may be made accordingly. As soon, then, 
as the gig touched the side, a mightily shrill piping was heard, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


19 5 


as if some boys were celebrating the Fourth of July with pen- 
ny whistles. This proceeded from a boatswain’s mate, who, 
standing at the gangway, was thus honoring the Captain’s 
return after his long and perilous absence. 

The Captain then slowly mounted the ladder, and gravely 
marching through a lane of “ side-boys ,” so called — all in 
their best bibs and tuckers, and who stood making sly faces 
behind his back — was received by all the Lieutenants in a 
body, their hats in their hands, and making a prodigious scrap- 
ing and bowing, as if they had just graduated at a French 
dancing-school. Meanwhile, preserving an erect, inflexible, 
and ram-rod carriage, and slightly touching his chapeau, the 
Captain made his ceremonious way to the cabin, disappearing 
behind the scenes, like the pasteboard ghost in Hamlet. 

But these ceremonies are nothing to those in homage of the 
Commodore’s arrival, even should he depart and arrive twen- 
ty times a day. Upon such occasions, the whole marine 
guard, except the sentries on duty, are marshaled on the quar- 
ter-deck, presenting arms as the Commodore passes them ; 
while their commanding officer gives the military salute with 
his sword, as if making masonic signs. Meanwhile, the boat- 
swain himself — not a boatswain's mate — is keeping up a per- 
severing whistling with his silver pipe ; for the Commodore 
is never greeted with the rude whistle of a boatswain’s sub- 
altern ; that would be positively insulting. All the Lieuten- 
ants and Midshipmen, besides the Captain himself, are drawn 
up in a phalanx, and off hat together ; and the side-boys , 
whose number is now increased to ten or twelve, make an 
imposing display at the gangway ; while the whole brass 
band, elevated upon the poop, strike up “ See ! the Conquer- 
ing Hero comes !” At least, this was the tune that our Cap- 
tain always hinted, by a gesture, to the captain of the band, 
whenever the Commodore arrived from shore. It conveyed a 
complimentary appreciation, on the Captain’s part, of the 
Commodore’s heroism during the Late War. 

To return to the gig. As I did not relish the idea of being 


196 


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a sort of body-servant to Captain Claret — since his gigmen 
were often called upon to scrub his cabin floor, and perform 
other duties for him — I made it my particular business to get 
rid of my appointment in his boat as soon as possible, and the 
next day after receiving it, succeeded in procuring a substitute, 
who was glad of the chance to fill the position I so much un- 
dervalued. 

And thus, with our counterlikes and dislikes, most of us 
man-of-war’ s-men harmoniously dove-tail into each other, and, 
by our very points of opposition, unite in a clever whole, like 
the parts of a Chinese puzzle. But as, in a Chinese puzzle, 
many pieces are hard to place, so there are some unfortunate 
fellows who can never slip into their proper angles, and thus 
the whole puzzle becomes a puzzle indeed, which is the pre- 
cise condition of the greatest puzzle in the world — this man- 
of-war world itself. 


V 



CHAPTER XL. 

SOME OF THE CEREMONIES IN A MAN-OF-WAR UNNECESSARY ANI? 

INJURIOUS. 

The ceremonials of a man-of-war, some of which have been 
described in the preceding chapter, may merit a reflection or 
two. 

The general usages of the American Navy are founded 
upon the usages that prevailed in the Navy of monarchical 
England more than a century ago ; nor have they been ma- 
terially altered since. And while both England and America 
have become greatly liberalized in the interval ; while shore 
pomp in high places has come to be regarded by the more in- 
telligent masses of men as belonging to the absurd, ridiculous, 
and mock-heroic ; while that most truly august of all the 
majesties of earth, the President of the United States, may 
be seen entering his residence with his umbrella under his 
arm, and no brass band or military guard at his heels, and 
unostentatiously taking his seat by the side of the meanest 
citizen in a public conveyance ; while this is the case, there 
still lingers in American men-of-war all the stilted etiquette 
and childish parade of the old-fashioned Spanish court of 
Madrid. Indeed, so far as the things that meet the eye are 
concerned, an American Commodore is by far a greater man 
than the President of twenty millions of freemen. 

But we plain people ashore might very willingly be content 
to leave these commodores in the unmolested possession of 
their gilded penny whistles, rattles, and gewgaws, since they 
seem to take so much pleasure in them, were it not that all 
this is attended by consequences to -their subordinates in the 
last degree to be deplored • 


198 


WHITE-JACKET. 


While hardly any one will question that a naval officer 
should be surrounded by circumstances calculated to impart a 
requisite dignity to his position, it is not the less certain that, 
by the excessive pomp he at present maintains, there is natu- 
rally and unavoidably generated a feeling of servility and de- 
basement in the hearts of most of the seamen who continually 
behold a fellow-mortal flourishing over their heads like the 
archangel Michael with a thousand wings. And as, in de- 
gree, this same pomp is observed toward their inferiors by all 
the grades of commissioned officers, even down to a midship- 
man, the evil is proportionately multiplied. 

It would not at all diminish a proper respect for the offi- 
cers, and subordination to their authority among the seamen, 
* were all this idle parade — only ministering to the arrogance 
of the officers, without at all benefiting the state — completely 
done away. But to do so, we voters and lawgivers ourselves 
must be no respecters of persons. 

That saying about leveling upward , and not downward , 
may seem very fine to those who can not see its self-involved 
absurdity. But the truth is, that, to gain the true level, in 
some things, we must cut downward ; for how can you make 
every sailor a commodore ? or how raise the valleys, without 
filling them up with the superfluous tops of the hills ? 

Some discreet, but democratic, legislation in this matter is 
much to be desired. And by bringing down naval officers, 
in these things at least, without affecting their legitimate 
dignity and authority, we shall correspondingly elevate the 
common sailor, without relaxing the subordination, in which 
he should by all means be retained. 


CHAPTER XLI. 


A MAN-OF-WAR LIBRARY. 

Nowhere does time pass more heavily than with most 
man-of-war’s-men on board their craft in harbor. 

One of my principal antidotes against ennui in Rio, was 
reading. There was a public library on board, paid for by 
government, and intrusted to the custody of one of the marine 
corporals, a little, dried-up man, of a somewhat literary turn. 
He had once been a clerk in a Post-office ashore ; and, having 
been long accustomed to hand over letters when called for, he 
was now just the man to hand over books. He kept them in 
a large cask on the berth-deck, and, when seeking a particular 
volume, had to capsize it like a barrel of potatoes. This made 
him very cross and irritable, as most all Librarians are. Who 
had the selection of these books, I do not know, but some of 
them must have been selected by our Chaplain, who so pranced 
on Coleridge’s “ High German horse” 

Mason Good’s Book of Nature — a very good book, to be 
sure, but not precisely adapted to tarry tastes — was one of 
these volumes ; and Machiavel’s Art of War — which was 
very dry fighting ; and a folio of Tillotson’s Sermons — the best 
of reading for divines, indeed, but with little relish for a main- 
top-man ; and Locke’s Essays — incomparable essays, every 
body knows, but miserable reading at sea ; and Plutarch’s 
Lives — superexcellent biographies, which pit Greek against 
Roman in beautiful style, but then, in a sailor’s estimation, 
not to be mentioned with the Lives of the Admirals ; and 
Blair’s Lectures, University Edition — a fine treatise on rhet- 
oric, but having nothing to say about nautical phrases, such 
as “ splicing the main-brace ,” “ passing a gammoning ,” “ pud- 


200 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


dinging the dolphin ,” and “ making a Carrick-bend be- 
sides numerous invaluable but unreadable tomes, that might 
have been purchased cheap at the auction of some college- 
professor’s library. 

But I found ample entertainment in a few choice old au- 
thors, whom I stumbled upon in various parts of the ship, 
among the inferior officers. One was “ Morgan’s History of 
Algiers,” a famous old quarto, abounding in picturesque nar- 
ratives of corsairs, captives, dungeons, and sea-fights ; and 
making mention of a cruel old Dey, who, toward the latter 
part of his life, was so filled with remorse for his cruelties and 
crimes that he could not stay in bed after four o’clock in the 
morning, but had to rise in great trepidation and walk off his 
bad feelings till breakfast time. And another venerable oc- 
tavo, containing a certificate from Sir Christopher Wren to its 
authenticity, entitled “ Knox’s Captivity in Ceylon, 1681” 
— abounding in stories about the Devil, who was superstitious- 
ly supposed to tyrannize over that unfortunate land : to mol- 
lify him, the priests offered up buttermilk, red cocks, and sau- 
sages ; and the Devil ran roaring about in the woods, fright- 
ening travelers out of their wits ; insomuch that the Islanders 
bitterly lamented to Knox that their country was full of dev- 
ils, and, consequently, there was no hope for their eventual 
well-being. Knox swears that he himself heard the Devil 
roar, though he did not see his horns ; it was a terrible noise, 
he says, like the baying of a hungry mastiff. 

Then there was .Walpole’s Letters — very witty, pert, and 
polite — and some odd volumes of plays, each of which was a 
precious casket of jewels of good things, shaming the trash 
nowadays passed off for dramas, containing “ The Jew of 
Malta,” “Old Fortunatus,” “The City Madam,” “ Volpone,” 
“ The Alchymist,” and other glorious old dramas of the age ot 
Marlow and Jonson, and that literary Damon and Pythias, 
the magnificent, mellow old Beaumont and Fletcher, who 
have sent the long shadow of their reputation, side by side 
with Shakspeare’s, far down the endless vale of posterity. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


201 


And may that shadow never be less ! but as for St. Shaks- 
peare, may his never be more, lest the commentators arise, 
and settling upon his sacred text, like unto locusts, devour 
it clean up, leaving never a dot over an I. 

I diversified this reading of mine, by borrowing Moore’s 
“ Loves of the Angels ” from Rose-water, who recommended 
it as “ de charmingest of wolumesf and a Negro Song-book, 
containing Sittiri on a Rail , Gumbo Squash , and Jim along 
Josey, from Broadbit, a sheet-anchor-man. The sad taste of 
this old tar, in admiring such vulgar stuff, was much de- 
nounced by Rose-water, whose own predilections were of a 
more elegant nature, as evinced by his exalted opinion of the 
literary merits of the “ Loves of the Angels .” 

I was by no means the only reader of books on board the 
Neversink. Several other sailors were diligent readers, 
though their studies did not lie in the way of belles-lettres. 
Their favorite authors were such as you may find at the 
book-stalls around Fulton Market ; they were slightly physi- 
ological in their nature. My book experiences on board of 
the frigate proved an example of a fact which every book- 
lover must have experienced before me, namely, that though 
public libraries have an imposing air, and doubtless contain 
invaluable volumes, yet, somehow, the books that prove most 
agreeable, grateful, and companionable, are those we pick up 
by chance here and there ; those which seem put into our 
hands by Providence ; those which pretend to little, but abound 
in much. 

I* 


CHAPTER XLII. 


KILLING- TIME IN A MAN-OF-WAR IN HARBOR. 

Reading was by no means the only method adopted by 
my shipmates in whiling away the long, tedious hours in har- 
bor. In truth, many of them could not have read, had they 
wanted to ever so much ; in early youth their primers had 
been sadly neglected. Still, they had other pursuits ; some 
were expert at the needle, and employed their time in making 
elaborate shirts, stitching picturesque eagles, and anchors, and 
all the stars of the federated states in the collars thereof ; so 
that when they at last completed and put on these shirts, 
they may be said to have hoisted the American colors. 

Others excelled in tattooing , or pricking, as it is called in 
a man-of-war. Of these prickers, two had long been cele- 
brated, in their way, as consummate masters of the art. Each 
had a small box full of tools and coloring matter ; and they 
charged so high for their services, that at the end of the cruise 
they were supposed to have cleared upward of four hundred 
dollars. They would prick you to order a palm-tree, an an- 
chor, a crucifix, a lady, a lion, an eagle, or any thing else you 
might want. 

The Roman Catholic sailors on board had at least the cru- 
cifix pricked on their arms, and for this reason : If they 
chanced to die in a Catholic land, they would be sure of a 
decent burial in consecrated ground, as the priest would be 
sure to observe the symbol of Mother Church on their persons. 
They would not fare as Protestant sailors dying in Callao, who 
are shoved under the sands of St. Lorenzo, a solitary, volcanic 
island in the harbor, overrun with reptiles, their heretical bodies 
not being permitted to repose in the more genial loam of Lima. 

And many sailors not Catholics were anxious to have the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


203 


crucifix painted on them, owing to a curious superstition of 
theirs. They affirm — some of them — that if you have that 
mark tattooed upon all four limbs, you might fall overboard 
among seven hundred and seventy-five thousand white sharks, 
all dinnerless, and not one of them would so much as dare to 
smell at your little finger. 

We had one fore-top-man on board, who, during the entire 
cruise, was having an endless cable pricked round and round 
his waist, so that, when his frock was off, he looked like a 
capstan with a hawser coiled round about it. This fore-top- 
man paid eighteen pence per link for the cable, besides being 
on the smart the whole cruise, suffering the effects of his re- 
peated puncturings ; so he paid very dear for his cable. 

One other mode of passing time while in port was cleaning 
and polishing your bright-work ; for it must be known that, 
in men -of- war, every sailor has some brass or steel of one kind 
or other to keep in high order — like house-maids, whose busi- 
ness it is to keep well-polished the knobs on the front-door rail- 
ing and the parlor-grates. 

Excepting the ring-bolts, eye-bolts, and belaying-pins scat- 
tered about the decks, this bright- work, as it is called, is prin- 
cipally about the guns, embracing the “ monkey-tails” of the 
carronades, the screws, prickers , little irons, and other things. 

The portion that fell to my own share I kept in superior 
order, quite equal in polish to Rogers’s best cutlery. I re- 
ceived the most extravagant encomiums from the officers ; 
one of whom offered to match me against any brasier or brass- 
polisher in her British majesty’s Navy. Indeed, I devoted 
myself to the work body and soul, and thought no pains too 
painful, and no labor too laborious, to achieve the highest at- 
tainable polish possible for us poor lost sons of Adam to reach. 

Upon one occasion, even, when woolen rags were scarce, 
and no burned-brick was to be had from the ship’s-yeoman, I 
sacrificed the corners of my woolen shirt, and used some den- 
trifice I had, as substitutes for the rags and burned-brick. 
The dentrifice operated delightfully, and made the threading 


204 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


of my carronade screw shine and grin again, like a set of false 
teeth in an eager heiress-hunter’s mouth. 

Still another mode of passing time, was arraying yourself in 
your best “ togs ” and promenading up and down the gun-deck, 
admiring the shore scenery from the port -holes, which, in an 
amphitheatrical hay like Rio — belted about by the most va- 
ried and charming scenery of hill, dale, moss, meadow, court, 
castle, tower, grove, vine, vineyard, aqueduct, palace, square, 
island, fort — is very much like lounging round a circular cos- 
morama, and ever and anon lazily peeping through the glasses 
here and there. Oh ! there is something worth living for, 
even in our man-of-war world ; and one glimpse of a bower 
of grapes, though a cable’s length off, is almost satisfaction 
for dining off a shank-bone salted down. 

This promenading was chiefly patronized by the marines, 
and particularly by Colbrook, a remarkably handsome and 
very gentlemanly corporal among them. He was a complete 
lady’s man ; with fine black eyes, bright red cheeks, glossy 
jet whiskers, and a refined organization of the whole man. 
He used to array himself in his regimentals, and saunter about 
like an officer of the Cold-Stream Guards, strolling down to 
his club in St. James’s. Every time he passed me, he would 
heave a sentimental sigh, and hum to himself “ The girl I 
left behind me.” This fine corporal afterward became a rep- 
resentative in the Legislature of the State of New Jersey ; for 
T saw his name returned about a year after my return home. 

But, after all, there was not much room, while in port, for 
promenading, at least on the gun-deck, for the whole larboard 
side is kept clear for the benefit of the officers, who appreciate 
the advantages of having a clear stroll fore and aft ; and they 
well know that the sailors had much better be crowded to- 
gether on the other side than that the set of their own coat-tails 
should be impaired by brushing against their tarry trowsers. 

One other way of killing time while in port is playing check- 
ers ; that is, when it is permitted ; for it is not every navy 
captain who will allow such a scandalous proceeding. But, 




THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


205 


as for Captain Claret, though he did like his glass of Madei- 
ra uncommonly well, and was an undoubted descendant from 
the hero tff the Battle of the Brandywine, and though he some- 
times showed a suspiciously flushed face when superintending 
in person the flogging of a sailor for getting intoxicated against 
his particular orders, yet I will say for Captain Claret that, 
upon the whole, he was rather indulgent to his crew, so long 
as they were perfectly docile. He allowed them to play check- 
ers as much as they pleased. More than once I have known 
him, when going forward to the fore-castle, pick his way care- 
fully among scores of canvass checker-cloths spread upon the 
deck, so as not to tread upon the men — the checker-men and 
man-of-war’s-men included ; but, in a certain sense, they were 
both one ; for, as the sailors used their checker-men, so, at 
quarters, their officers used these man-of-war’s-men. 

But Captain Claret’s leniency in permitting checkers on 
board his ship might have arisen from the following little cir- 
cumstance, confidentially communicated to me. Soon after 
the ship had sailed from home, checkers Were prohibited ; 
whereupon the sailors were exasperated against the Captain, 
and one night, when he was walking round the forecastle, 
him ! came an iron belaying-pin past his ears ; and while he 
was dodging that, him ! came another, from the other side ; 
so that, it being a very dark night, and nobody to be seen, 
and it being impossible to find out the trespassers, he thought 
it best to get back into his cabin as soon as possible. Some 
time after — -just as if the belaying-pins had nothing to do with 
it — it was indirectly rumored that the checker-boards might 
be brought out again, which — as a philosophical shipmate 
observed — showed that Captain Claret was a man of a ready 
understanding, and could understand a hint as well as any 
other man, even when conveyed by several pounds of iron. 

Some of the sailors were very precise about their checker- 
cloths, and even went so far that they would not let you play 
with them unless you first washed your hands, especially if so 
be you had just come from tarring down the rigging. 


206 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Another way of beguiling the tedious hours, is to get a cosy 
seat somewhere, and fall into as snug a little re very as you 
can. Or if a seat is not to he had — which is frequently the 
case — then get a tolerably comfortable stand-up against the 
bulwarks, and begin to think about home and bread and but 
ter — always inseparably connected to a wanderer — which will 
very soon bring delicious tears into your eyes ; for every one 
knows what a luxury is grief, when you can get a private 
closet to enjoy it in, and no Paul Prys intrude. Several of 
my shore friends, indeed, when suddenly overwhelmed by 
some disaster, always make a point of flying to the first oys- 
ter-cellar, and shutting themselves up in a box, with nothing 
but a plate of stewed oysters, some crackers, the castor, and 
a decanter of old Port. 

Still another way of killing time in harbor, is to lean over 
the bulwarks, and speculate upon where, under the sun, you 
are going to be that day next year, which is a subject full of 
interest to every living soul ; so much so, that there is a par- 
ticular day of a particular month of the year, which, from my 
earliest recollections, I have always kept the run of, so that I 
can even now tell just where I was on that identical day of 
every year past since I was twelve years old. And, when 1 
am all alone, to run over this almanac in my mind is almost 
as entertaining as to read your own diary, and far more inter- 
esting than to peruse a table of logarithms on a rainy after- 
noon. I always keep the anniversary of that day with lamb 
and peas, and a pint of Sherry, for it comes in Spring. But 
when it came round in the Neversink, I could get neither 
lamb, peas, nor Sherry. 

But perhaps the best way to drive the hours before you 
four-in-hand, is to select a soft plank on the gun-deck, and go to 
sleep. A fine specific, which seldom fails, unless, to be sure, 
you have been sleeping all the twenty-four hours beforehand. 

Whenever employed in killing time in harbor, I have lifted 
myself up on my elbow and looked around me, and seen so 
many of my shipmates all employed at the same common 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


207 


business ; all under lock and key ; all hopeless prisoners like 
myself ; all under martial law ; all dieting on salt beef and 
biscuit ; all in one uniform ; all yawning, gaping, and stretch- 
ing in concert, it was then that I used to feel a certain love 
and affection for them, grounded, doubtless, on a fellow-feeling. 

And though, in a previous part of this narrative, I have 
mentioned that I used to hold myself somewhat aloof from 
the mass of seamen on board the Neversink ; and though this 
was true, and my real acquaintances were comparatively few, 
and my intimates still fewer, yet, to tell the truth, it is quite 
impossible to live so long with five hundred of your fellow- 
beings, even if not of the best families in the land, and with 
morals that would not be spoiled by further cultivation ; it is 
quite impossible, I say, to live with five hundred of your fellow 
beings, be they who they may, without feeling a common 
sympathy with them at the time, and ever after cherishing 
some sort of interest in their welfare. 

The truth of this was curiously corroborated by a rather 
equivocal acquaintance of mine, who, among the men, went 
by the name of “ Shakings .” He belonged to the fore-hold, 
whence, of a dark night, he would sometimes emerge to chat 
with the sailors on deck. I never liked the man’s looks ; I 
protest it was a mere accident that gave me the honor of his 
acquaintance, and generally I did my best to avoid him, 
when he would come skulking, like a jail-bird, out of his den 
into the liberal, open air of the sky. Nevertheless, the anec- 
dote this holder told me is well worth preserving, more espe- 
cially the extraordinary frankness evinced in his narrating 
such a thing to a comparative stranger. 

The substance of his story was as follows : Shakings, it 
seems, had once been a convict in the New York State’s Prison 
at Sing Sing, where he had been for years confined for a 
crime, which he gave me his solemn word of honor he was 
wholly innocent of. He told me that, after his term Iffcid ex 
pired, and he went out into the world again, he never could 
stumble upon any of his old Sing Sing associates without 


208 


VV HITE-JACKET. 


dropping into a public house and talking over old times. And 
when fortune would go hard with him, and he felt out of 
sorts, and incensed at matters and things in general, he told 
me that, at such time, he almost wished he was hack again 
in Sing Sing, where he was relieved from all anxieties about 
what he should eat and drink, and was supported, like the 
President of the United States and Prince Albert, at the pub- 
lic charge. He used to have such a snug little cell, he said, 
all to himself, and never felt afraid of house-breakers, for the 
walls were uncommonly thick, and his door was securely bolt- 
ed for him, and a watchman was all the time walking up and 
down in the passage, while he himself was fast asleep and 
dreaming. To this, in substance, the holder added, that he 
narrated this anecdote because he thought it applicable to a 
man-of-war, which he scandalously asserted to be a sort of 
State Prison afloat. 

Concerning the curious disposition to fraternize and be socia- 
ble, which this Shakings mentioned as characteristic of the 
convicts liberated from his old homestead at Sing Sing, it 
may well be asked, whether it may not prove to be some 
feeling, somehow akin to the reminiscent impulses which in- 
fluenced them, that shall hereafter fraternally reunite all us 
mortals, when we shall have exchanged this State’s Prison 
man-of-war world of ours for another and a better. 

From the foregoing account of the great difficulty we had 
in killing time while in port, it must not be inferred that on 
board of the Neversink in Rio there was literally no work to 
be done. At long intervals the launch would come along- 
side with water-casks, to be emptied into iron tanks in the 
hold. In this way nearly fifty thousand gallons, as chron- 
icled in the books of the master’s mate, were decanted into 
the ship’s bowels — a ninety days’ allowance. With this 
huge Lake Ontario in us, the mighty Neversink might be 
said fo resemble the united continent of the Eastern Hemi- 
sphere — floating in a vast ocean herself, and having a Medi 
terranean floating in her. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 


SMUGGLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

It is in a good degree owing to the idleness just described, 
that, while lying in harbor, the man-of-war’s-man is exposed 
to the most temptations, and gets into his saddest scrapes. 
For though his vessel be anchored a mile from the shore, and 
her sides are patrolled by sentries night and day, yet these 
things can not entirely prevent the seductions of the land from 
reaching him. The prime agent in working his calamities 
in port is his old arch-enemy, the ever-devilish god of grog. 

Immured as the man-of-war’s-man is, serving out his weary 
three years in a sort of sea-Newgate, from which he can not 
escape, either by the roof or burrowing under ground, he too 
often flies to the bottle to seek relief from the intolerable 
ennui of nothing to do, and nowhere to go. His ordinary 
government allowance of spirits, one gill per diem, is not 
enough to give a sufficient fillip to his listless senses ; he pro- 
nounces his grog basely watered ; he scouts at it, as thinner 
than muslin ; he craves a more vigorous nip at the cable , a 
more sturdy sivig at the halyards ; and if opium were to be 
had, many would steep themselves a thousand fathoms down 
in the densest fumes of that oblivious drug. Tell him that 
the delirium tremens and the mania-a-potu lie in ambush for 
drunkards, he will say to you. “ Let them bear down upon 
me, then, before the wind ; any thing that smacks of life is 
better than to feel Davy Jones’s chest-lid on your nose.” He 
is reckless as an avalanche ; and though his fall destroy him- 
self and others, yet a ruinous commotion is better than being 
frozen fast in unendurable solitudes. No wonder, then, that 
he goes all lengths to procure the thing he craves ; no won- 


210 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


der that he pays the most exorbitant prices, breaks through 
all law, and braves the ignominious lash itself, rather than 
be deprived of his stimulus. 

Now, concerning no one thing in a man-of-war, are the 
regulations more severe than respecting the smuggling of 
grog, and being found intoxicated. For either offence there 
is but one penalty, invariably enforced ; and that is, the deg- 
radation of the gangway. 

All conceivable precautions are taken by most frigate- 
executives to guard against the secret admission of spirits 
into the vessel. In the first place, no shore-boat whatever 
is allowed to approach a man-of-war in a foreign harbor with- 
out permission from the officer of the deck. Even the bum- 
boats , , the small craft licensed by the officers to bring off fruit 
for the sailors, to be bought out of their own money — these 
are invariably inspected before permitted to hold intercourse 
with the ship’s company. And not only this, but every one 
of the numerous ship’s boats — kept almost continually plying 
to and from the shore — are similarly inspected, sometimes 
each boat twenty times in the day. 

This inspection is thus performed : The boat being descried 
by the quarter-master from the poop, she is reported to the 
deck-officer, who thereupon summons the master-at-arms, the 
ship’s Chief of Police. This functionary now stations him- 
self at the gangway, and as the boat’s crew, one by one, come 
up the side, he personally overhauls them, making them take 
off their hats, and then, placing both hands upon their heads, 
draws his palms slowly down to their feet, carefully feeling 
all unusual protuberances. If nothing suspicious is felt, the 
man is let pass ; and so on, till the whole boat’s crew, aver- 
aging about sixteen men, are examined. The Chief of Po- 
lice then descends into the boat, and walks from stem to stern, 
eyeing it all over, and poking his long rattan into every nook 
and cranny. This operation concluded, and nothing found, he 
mounts the ladder, touches his hat to the deck-officer, and re- 
ports the boat clean; whereupon she is hauled out to the booms. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


211 


Thus it will be seen that not a man of the ship’s company 
ever enters the vessel from shore without it being rendered 
next to impossible, apparently, that he should have succeed- 
ed in smuggling any thing. Those individuals who are per- 
mitted to board the ship without undergoing this ordeal, are 
only persons whom it would be preposterous to search — such 
as the Commodore himself, the Captain, Lieutenants, &c., 
and gentlemen and ladies coming as visitors. 

For any thing to be clandestinely thrust through the lower 
port-holes at night, is rendered very difficult, from the watch- 
fulness of the quarter-master in hailing all boats that ap- 
proach, long before they draw alongside, and the vigilance of 
the sentries, posted on platforms overhanging the water, whose 
orders are to fire into a strange boat which, after being warn- 
ed to withdraw, should still persist in drawing nigh. More- 
over, thirty- two-pound shot are slung to ropes, and suspended 
over the bows, to drop a hole into and sink any small craft, 
which, spite of all precautions, by strategy should succeed in 
getting under the bows with liquor by night. Indeed, the 
whole power of martial law is enlisted in this matter ; and 
every one of the numerous officers of the ship, besides his gen- 
eral zeal in enforcing the regulations, adds to that a personal 
feeling, since the sobriety of the men abridges his own cares 
and anxieties. 

How then, it will be asked, in the face of an argus-eyed 
police, and in defiance even of bayonets and bullets, do man- 
of-war’s-men contrive to smuggle their spirits ? Not to en- 
large upon minor stratagems — every few days detected, and 
rendered naught (such as rolling up, in a neckerchief, a long, 
slender “ skin” of grog, like a sausage, and in that manner 
ascending to the deck out of a boat just from shore ; or open- 
ly bringing on board cocoa-nuts and melons, procured from a 
knavish bum-boat, filled with spirits, instead of milk or wa- 
ter) — we will only mention here two or three other modes, 
coming under my own observation. 

While in Hio, a fore-top-man, belonging to the second cut- 


212 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ter, paid down the money, and made an arrangement with a 
person encountered at the Palace-landing ashore, to the fol- 
lowing effect. Of a certain moonless night, he was to bring 
off three gallons of spirits, in skins , and moor them to the 
frigate’s anchor-buoy — some distance from the vessel — attach- 
ing something heavy, to sink them out of sight. In the mid- 
dle watch of the night, the fore-top-man slips out of his ham- 
mock, and by creeping along in the shadows, eludes the vigi- 
lance of the master-at-arms and his mates, gains a port-hole, 
and softly lowers himself into the water, almost without cre- 
ating a ripple — the sentries marching to and fro on their over- 
hanging platform above him. He is an expert swimmer, and 
paddles along under the surface, every now and then rising a 
little, and lying motionless on his back to breathe — little but 
his nose exposed. The buoy gained, he cuts the skins adrift, 
ties them round his body, and in the same adroit manner 
makes good his return. 

This feat is very seldom attempted, for it needs the utmost 
caution, address, and dexterity ; and no one but a super-ex- 
pert burglar, and faultless Leander of a swimmer, could 
achieve it. 

From the greater privileges which they enjoy, the “ forward 
officers ,” that is, the Gunner, Boatswain, & c., have much 
greater opportunities for successful smuggling than the com- 
mon seamen. Coming alongside one night in a cutter, Yarn, 
our boatswain, in some inexplicable way, contrived to slip 
several skins of brandy through the air-port of his own state- 
room. The feat, however, must have been perceived by one 
of the boat’s crew, who immediately, on gaining the deck, 
sprung down the ladders, stole into the boatswain’s room, and 
made away with the prize, not three minutes before the right- 
ful owner entered to claim it. Though, from certain circum- 
stances, the thief was known to the aggrieved party, yet the 
latter could say nothing, since he himself had infringed the 
law. But the next day, in the capacity of captain of the 
ship’s executioners, Yarn had the satisfaction (it was so to 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


213 


him), of standing over the robber at the gangway ; for, be- 
ing found intoxicated with the very liquor the boatswain him- 
self had smuggled, the man had been condemned to a flogging. 

This recalls another instance, still more illustrative of the 
knotted, trebly intertwisted villainy, accumulating at a sort 
of compound interest in a man-of-war. The cockswain of the 
Commodore’s barge takes his crew apart, one by one, and 
cautiously sounds them as to their fidelity — not to the United 
States of America, but to himself. Three individuals, whom 
he deems doubtful — that is, faithful to the United States of 
America — he procures to be discharged from the barge, and 
men of his own selection are substituted ; for he is always an 
influential character, this cockswain of the Commodore’s 
barge. Previous to this, however, he has seen to it well, that 
no Temperance men — that is, sailors who do not dr§w their 
government ration of grog, but take the money for it — he has 
seen to it, that none of these bathers are numbered among his 
crew. Having now proved his men, he divulges his plan to 
the assembled body ; a solemn oath of secrecy is obtained, 
and he waits the first fit opportunity to carry into execution 
his nefarious designs. 

At last it comes. One afternoon the barge carries the Com- 
modore across the Bay to a fine water-side settlement of no- 
blemen’s seats, called Praya Grande. The Commodore is 
visiting a Portuguese marquis, and the pair linger long over 
their dinner in an arbor in the garden. Meanwhile, the 
cockswain has liberty to roam about where he pleases. He 
searches out a place where some choice red-eye (brandy) is to 
be had, purchases six large bottles, and conceals them among 
the trees. Under the pretence of filling the boat-keg with 
water, which is always kept in the barge to refresh the crew, 
he now carries it off into the grove, knocks out the head, puts 
the bottles inside, reheads the keg, fills it with water, carries 
it down to the boat, and audaciously restores it to its conspic- 
uous position in the middle, with its bung-hole up. When 
the Commodore comes down to the beach, and they pull off 


214 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


for the ship, the Cockswain, in a loud voice, commands the 
nearest man to take that bung out of the keg — that precious 
water will spoil. Arrived alongside the frigate, the boat’s 
crew are overhauled, as usual, at the gangway ; and nothing 
being found on them, are passed. The master-at-arms now 
descending into the barge, and finding nothing suspicious, re- 
ports it clean , having put his finger into the open bung of the 
keg and tasted that the water was pure. The barge is ordered 
out to the booms, and deep night is waited for, ere the Cock- 
swain essays to snatch the bottles from the keg. 

But, unfortunately for the success of this masterly smug- 
gler, one of his crew is a weak-pated fellow, who, having 
drank somewhat freely ashore, goes about the gun-deck throw- 
ing out profound, tipsy hints concerning some unutterable pro- 
ceeding «n the ship’s anvil. A knowing old sheet-anchor-man, 
an unprincipled fellow, putting this, that, and the other to- 
gether, ferrets out the mystery ; and straightway resolves to 
reap the goodly harvest which the Cockswain has sowed. He 
seeks him out, takes him to one side, and addresses him thus : 

“ Cockswain, you have been smuggling off some red-eye , 
which at this moment is in your barge at the booms. Now, 
Cockswain, I have stationed two of my mess-mates at the port- 
holes, on that side of the ship ; and if they report to me that 
you, or any of your bargemen, offer to enter that barge before 
morning, I will immediately report you as a smuggler to the 
officer of the deck.” 

The Cockswain is astounded ; for, to be reported to the 
deck-officer as a smuggler, would inevitably procure him a 
sound flogging, and be the disgraceful breaking of him as a 
petty officer, receiving four dollars a month beyond his pay as 
an able seaman. He attempts to bribe the other to secrecy, 
by promising half the profits of the enterprise ; but the sheet- 
anchor-man’s integrity is like a rock ; he is no mercenary, to 
be bought up for a song. The Cockswain, therefore, is forced 
to swear that neither himself, nor any of his crew, shall enter 
the barge before morning. This done, the sheet-anchor-man 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


215 


goes to his confidants, and arranges his plans. In a word, he 
succeeds in introducing the six brandy bottles into the ship ; 
five of which he sells at eight dollars a bottle ; and then, with 
the sixth, between two guns, he secretly regales himself and 
confederates ; while the helpless Cockswain, stifling his rage, 
bitterly eyes them from afar. 

Thus, though they say that there is honor among thieves 
there is little among man-of-war smugglers. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 


A KNAVE IN OFFICE IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

The last smuggling story now about to be related also oc- 
curred while we lay in Rio. It is the more particularly pre- 
sented, since it furnishes the most curious evidence of the al- 
most incredible corruption pervading nearly all ranks in some 
men-of-war. 

For some days, the number of intoxicated sailors collared 
and brought up to the mast by the master-at-arms, to be re- 
ported to the deck-officers — previous to a flogging at the gang- 
way — had, in the last degree, excited the surprise and vexa- 
tion of the Captain and senior officers. So strict were the 
Captain’s regulations concerning the suppression of grog-smug- 
gling, and so particular had he been in charging the matter 
upon all the Lieutenants, and every under-strapper official in 
the frigate, that he was wholly at a loss how so large a quan- 
tity of spirits could have been spirited into the ship, in the 
face of all these checks, guards, and precautions. 

Still additional steps were adopted to detect the smugglers ; 
and Bland, the master-at-arms, together with his corporals, 
were publicly harangued at the mast by the Captain in per- 
son, and charged to exert their best powers in suppressing the 
traffic. Crowds were present at the time, and saw the mas- 
ter-at-arms touch his cap in obsequious homage, as he sol- 
emnly assured the Captain that he would still continue to do 
his best ; as, indeed, he said, he had always done. He con- 
cluded with a pious ejaculation, expressive of his personal ab- 
horrence of smuggling and drunkenness, and his fixed resolu- 
tion, so help him Heaven, to spend his last wink in setting up 
by night, to spy out all deeds of darkness. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


217 


“ I do not doubt you, master-at-arms,” returned the Cap- 
tain ; “ now go to your duty.” This master-at-arms was a 
favorite of the Captain’s. 

The next morning, before breakfast, when the market-boat 
came off (that is, one of the ship’s boats regularly deputed to 
bring off the daily fresh provisions for the officers) — when this 
boat came off, the master-at-arms, as usual, after carefully ex- 
amining both her and her crew, reported them to the deck-of- 
ficer to be free from suspicion. The provisions were then 
hoisted out, and among them came a good-sized wooden box, 

addressed to “ Mr. , Purser of the United States ship 

Neversink.” Of course,* any private matter of this sort, des- 
tined for a gentleman of the ward-room, was sacred from ex- 
amination, and the master-at-arms commanded one of his cor- 
porals to carry it down into the Purser’s state-room. But 
recent occurrences had sharpened the vigilance of the deck- 
officer to an unwonted degree, and seeing the box going down 
the hatchway, he demanded what that was, and whom it was 
for. 

“ All right, sir,” said the master-at-arms, touching his cap ; 
“ stores for the Purser, sir.” 

“ Let it remain on deck,” said the Lieutenant. “ Mr. Mont- 
gomery !” calling a midshipman, “ ask the Purser whether 
there is any box coming off for him this morning.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir,” said the middy, touching his cap. 

Presently he returned, saying that the Purser was ashore. 

“Very good, then; Mr. Montgomery, have that box put 
into the ‘ brig,’ with strict orders to the sentry not to suffer any 
one to touch it.” 

“ Had I not better take it down into my mess, sir, till the 
Purser comes off?” said the master-at-arms, deferentially. 

“ J have given my orders, sir !” said the Lieutenant, turn- 
ing away. 

When the Purser came on board, it turned out that he 
knew nothing at all about the box. He had never so much 
as heard of it in his life. So it was again brought up before 

K 


218 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


the deck-officer, who immediately summoned the master-at- 
arms. 

“ Break open that box !” 

“ Certainly, sir !” said the master-at-arms ; and, wrenching 
oft' the cover, twenty-five brown jugs, like a litter of twenty- 
five brown pigs, were found snugly nestled in a bed of straw. 

“ The smugglers are at work, sir,” said the master-at-arms, 
looking up. 

“ Uncork and taste it,” said the officer. 

The master-at-arms did so ; and, smacking his lips after a 
puzzled fashion, was a little doubtful whether it was Ameri- 
can whisky or Holland gin ; but he ‘said he was not used to 
liquor. 

“ Brandy ; I know it by the smell,” said the officer ; “re- 
turn the box to the brig.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir,” said the master-at-arms, redoubling his act- 
ivity. 

The affair was at once reported to the Captain, who, in- 
censed at the audacity of the thing, adopted every plan to de- 
tect the guilty parties. Inquiries were made ashore ; but by 
whom the box had been brought down to the market-boat 
there was no finding out. Here the matter rested for a time. 

Some days after, one of the boys of the mizzen-top was flog- 
ged for drunkemiess, and, while suspended in agony at the 
gratings, was made to reveal from whom he had procured his 
spirits. The man was called, and turned out to be an old super- 
annuated marine, one Scriggs, who did the cooking for the ma- 
rine-sergeants and masters-at-arms' mess. This marine was 
one of the most villainous-looking fellows in the ship, with a 
squinting, pick-lock, gray eye, and hang-dog gallows gait. How 
uch a most unmartial vagabond had insinuated himself into 
the honorable marine corps was a perfect mystery. He had 
always been noted for his personal uncleanliness, and among 
all hands, lore and aft, had the reputation of being a notorious 
old miser, who denied himself the few comforts, and many of 
the common necessaries of a man-of-war life. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


219 


Seeing no escape, Scriggs fell on his knees before the Cap- 
tain, and confessed the charge of the hoy. Observing the fel- 
low to be in an agony of fear at the sight of the boatswain’s 
mates and their lashes, and all the striking parade of public 
punishment, the Captain must have thought this a good op- 
portunity for completely pumping him of all his secrets. This 
terrified marine was at length forced to reveal his having 
been for some time an accomplice in a complicated system of 
underhand villainy, the head of which was no less a person 
age than the indefatigable chief of police, the master-at-arms 
himself. It appeared that this official had his confidential 
agents ashore, who supplied him with spirits, and in various 
boxes, packages, and bundles — addressed to the Purser and 
others — brought them down to the frigate’s boats at the land- 
ing. Ordinarily, the appearance of these things for the Purser 
and other ward-room gentlemen occasioned no surprise ; for 
almost every day some bundle or other is coming off for them, 
especially for the Purser ; and, as the master-at-arms was al- 
ways present on these occasions, it was an easy matter for 
him to hurry the smuggled liquor out of sight, and, under pre- 
tence of carrying the box or bundle down to the Purser’s 
room, hide it away upon his own premises. 

The miserly marine, Scriggs, with the pick-lock eye, was 
the man who clandestinely sold the spirits to the sailors, thus 
completely keeping the master-at-arms in the background. 
The liquor sold at the most exorbitant prices ; at one time 
reaching twelve dollars the bottle in cash, and thirty dollars 
a bottle in orders upon the Purser, to be honored upon the 
frigate’s arrival home. It may seem incredible that such 
prices should have been given by the sailors ; but when some 
man-of-war’s-men crave liquor, and it is hard to procure, they 
would almost barter ten years of their lifetime for but one soli- 
tary “ tot” if they could. 

The sailors who became intoxicated with the liquor thus 
smuggled on board by the master-at-arms, were, in almost 
numberless instances, officially seized by that functionary and 


220 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


scourged at the gangway. In a previous place it has been 
shown how conspicuous a part the master-at-arms enacts at 
this scene. 

The ample profits of this iniquitous business were divided 
between all the parties concerned in it ; Scriggs, the marine, 
coming in for one third. His cook’s mess-chest being brought 
on deck, four canvass hags of silver were found in it, amount- 
ing to a sum something short of as many hundred dollars. 

The guilty parties were scourged, double-ironed, and for 
several weeks were confined in the “ brig,” under a sentry ; 
all but the master-at-arms, who was merely cashiered and im- 
prisoned for a time, with bracelets at his wrists. Upon being 
liberated, he was turned adrift among the ship’s company ; 
and, by way of disgracing him still more, was thrust into the 
waist, the most inglorious division of the ship. 

Upon going to dinner one day, I found him soberly seated 
at my own mess ; and at first I could not but feel some very 
serious scruples about dining with him. Nevertheless, he w r as 
a man to study and digest ; so, upon a little reflection, I was 
not displeased at his presence. It amazed me, however, that 
he had wormed himself into the mess, since so many of the 
other messes had declined the honor ; until at last, I ascer- 
tained that he had induced a mess-mate of ours, a distant re- 
lation of his, to prevail upon the cook to admit him. 

Now it would not have answered for hardly any other mess 
in the ship to have received this man among them, for it 
would have torn a huge rent in their reputation ; hut our 
mess, A. No. 1 — the Forty-two-pounder Club — was composed 
of so fine a set of fellows ; so many captains of tops, and quar- 
ter-masters — men of undeniable mark on board ship — of long- 
established standing and consideration on the gun-deck ; that, 
with impunity, we could do so many equivocal things, utterly 
inadmissible for messes of inferior pretension. Besides, though 
we all abhorred the monster of Sin itself, yet, from our social 
superiority, highly rarified education in our lofty top, and large 
and liberal sweep of the aggregate of things, we were in a 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


221 


good degree free from those useless, personal prejudices, and 
galling hatreds against conspicuous sinners — not Sin — which 
so widely prevail among men of warped understandings and 
unchristian and uncharitable hearts. No ; the superstitions 
and dogmas concerning Sin had not laid their withering max- 
ims upon our hearts. We perceived how that evil was but 
good disguised, and a knave a saint in his way ; how that in 
other planets, perhaps, what we deem wrong, may there be 
deemed right ; even as some substances, without undergoing 
any mutations in themselves, utterly change their color, ac- 
cording to the light thrown upon them. We perceived that 
the anticipated millennium must have begun upon the morn- 
ing the first worlds were created ; and that, taken all in all, 
our man-of-war world itself was as eligible a round-sterned 
craft as any to be found in the Milky Way. And we fancied 
that though some of us, of the gun-deck, were at times con- 
demned to sufferings and slights, and all manner of tribulation 
and anguish, yet, no doubt, it was only our misapprehension 
of these things that made us take them for woeful pains in- 
stead of the most agreeable pleasures. I have dreamed of a 
sphere, says Pinzella, where to break a man on the wheel is 
held the most exquisite of delights you can confer upon him.; 
where for one gentleman in any way to vanquish another, 
is accounted an everlasting dishonor; where to tumble one 
into a pit after death, and then throw cold clods upon his up- 
turned face, is a species of contumely, only inflicted upon the 
most notorious criminals. 

But whatever we mess-mates thought, in whatever circum- 
stances we found ourselves, we never forgot that our frigate, 
bad as it was, was homeward-bound. Such, at least, were our 
reveries at times, though sorely jarred, now and then, by 
events that took our philosophy aback. For after all, philos- 
ophy — that is, the best wisdom that has ever in any way been 
revealed to our man-of-war world — is but a slough and a mire, 
with a few tufts of good footing here and there. 

But there was one man in the mess who would have naught 


222 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


to do with our philosophy — a churlish, ill-tempered, unphilo- 
sophical, superstitious old bear of a quarter-gunner ; a believ- 
er in Tophet, for which he was accordingly preparing him- 
self. Priming was his name ; hut methinks I have spoken 
of him before. 

Besides, this Bland, the master-at-arms, was no vulgar, 
dirty knave. In him — to modify Burke’s phrase — vice seem- 
ed, but only seemed, to lose half its seeming evil by losing all 
its apparent grossness. He was a neat and gentlemanly vil- 
lain, and broke his biscuit with a dainty hand. There was 
a fine polish about his whole person, and a pliant, insinuating 
style in. his conversation, that was, socially, quite irresistible. 
Save my noble captain, Jack Chase, he proved himself the 
most entertaining, I had almost said the most companionable 
man in the mess. Nothing but his mouth, that was some- 
what small, Moorish-arched, and wickedly delicate, and his 
snaky, black eye, that at times shone like a dark-lantern in a 
jeweler-shop at midnight, betokened the accomplished scoun- 
drel within. But in his conversation there was no trace of 
evil ; nothing equivocal ; he studiously shunned an indelicacy, 
never swore, and chiefly abounded in passing puns and witti- 
cisms, varied with humorous contrasts between ship and shore 
life, and many agreeable and racy anecdotes, very tastefully 
narrated. In short — in a merely psychological point of view, 
at least — he was a charming blackleg. Ashore, such a man 
might have been an irreproachable mercantile swindler, cir- 
culating in polite society. 

But he was still more than this. Indeed, I claim for this 
.master-at-arms a lofty and honorable niche in the Newgate 
Calender of history. His intrepidity, coolness, and wonderful 
self-possession in calmly resigning himself to a fate that thrust 
him from an office in which he had tyrannized over five hund- 
red mortals, many of whom hated and loathed him, passed all 
belief ; his intrepidity, I say, in now fearlessly gliding among 
them, like a disarmed sword-fish among ferocious white-sharks ; 
this, surely, bespoke no ordinary man. While in office, even, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


223 


his life had often been secretly attempted by the seamen whom 
he had brought to the gangway. Of dark nights they had 
dropped shot down the hatchways, destined “ to damage his 
pepper-box,” as they phrased it ; they had made ropes with a 
hangman’s noose at the end, and tried to lasso him in dark 
comers. And now he was adrift among them, under notori- 
ous circumstances of superlative villainy, at last dragged to 
light ; and yet he blandly smiled, politely offered his cigar 
holder to a perfect stranger, and laughed and chatted to right 
and left, as if springy, buoyant, and elastic, with an angelic 
conscience, and sure of kind friends wherever he went, both 
in this life and the life to come. 

While he was lying ironed in the “ brig,” gangs of the men 
were sometimes overheard whispering about the terrible re- 
ception they would give him when he should be set at large. 
Nevertheless, when liberated, they seemed confounded by his 
erect and cordial assurance, his gentlemanly sociability and 
fearless companionableness. From being an implacable po- 
lice-man, vigilant, cruel, and remorseless in his office, howev- 
er polished in his phrases, he was now become a disinterested, 
sauntering man of leisure, winking at all improprieties, and 
ready to laugh and make merry with any one. Still, at first, 
the men gave him a wide berth, and returned scowls for his 
smiles ; but who can forever resist the very Devil himself, 
when he comes in the guise of a gentleman, free, fine, and 
frank ? Though Goethe’s pious Margaret hates the Devil in 
his horns and harpooneer’s tail, yet she smiles and nods to the 
engaging fiend in the persuasive, winning, oily, wholly harm- 
less Mephistophiles. But, however it was, I, for one, regard- 
ed this master-at-arms with mixed feelings of detestation, pity, 
admiration, and something opposed to enmity. I could not 
but abominate him when I thought of his conduct ; but I pit- 
ied the continual gnawing which, under all his deftly-donned 
disguises, I saw lying at the bottom of his soul. I admired 
his heroism in sustaining himself so well under such reverses. 
And when I thought how arbitrary the Articles of War are 


224 


WHITE-JACKET; 0R ; 


in defining a man-of-war villain ; how much undetected guilt 
might be sheltered by the aristocratic awning of our quarter- 
deck ; how many florid pursers, ornaments of the ward-room, 
had been legally protected in defrauding the people, I could 
not hut say to myself, Well, after all, though this man is a 
most wicked one indeed, yet is he even more luckless than 
depraved. 

Besides, a studied observation of Bland convinced me that 
he was an organic and irreclaimable scoundrel, who did wick- 
ed deeds as the cattle browse the herbage, because wicked 
deeds seemed the legitimate operation of his whole infernal or- 
ganization. Phrenologically, he was without a soul. Is it 
to be wondered at, that the devils are irreligious ? What, 
then, thought I,, who is to blame in this matter ? For one, 

I will not take the Day of Judgment upon me by authorita- 
tively pronouncing upon the essential criminality of any man* 
of-war’s-man ; and Christianity has taught me that, at the 
last day, man-of-war’ s-men will not be judged by the Articles 
of War, nor by the United States Statutes at Large , but 
by immutable laws, ineffably beyond the comprehension of the 
honorable Board of Commodores and Navy Commissioners. 

But though I will stand by even a man-of-war thief, and 
defend him from being seized up at the gangway, if I can — 
remembering that my Savior once hung between two thieves, 
promising one life-eternal — yet I would not, after the plain 
conviction of a villain, again let him entirely loose to prey 
upon honest seamen, fore and aft all three decks. But this 
did Captain Claret ; and though the thing may not perhaps , 
be credited, nevertheless, here it shall be recorded. 

After the master-at-arms had been adrift among the ship’s 
company for several weeks, and we were within a few days’ 
sail of home, he was summoned to the mast, and publicly re- 
instated in his office as the ship’s chief of police. Perhaps 
Captain Claret had read the Memoirs of Vidocq, and believed 
in the old saying, set a rogue to catch a rogue . Or, perhaps, 
he was a man of very tender feelings, highly susceptible to the 


THE WORLD IN A JVt A N-0 F-W A K. 


225 


soft emotions of gratitude, and could not bear to leave in dis- 
grace a person who, out of the generosity of hisu heart, had, 
about a year previous, presented him with a rare snuff-box, 
fabricated from a sperm-whale’s tooth, with a curious silver 
hinge, and cunningly wrought in the shape of a whale ; also 
a splendid gold-mounted cane, of a costly Brazilian wood, with 
a gold plate, bearing the Captain’s name and rank in the 
service, the place and time of his birth, and with a vacancy 
underneath — no doubt providentially left for his heirs to record 
his decease. 

Certain it was that, some months previous to the master- 
at-arms’ disgrace, he had presented these articles to the Cap- 
tain, with his best love and compliments ; and the Captain 
had received them, and seldom went ashore without the cane, 
and never took snuff but out of that box. With some Cap- 
tains, a sense of propriety might have induced them to return 
these presents, when the generous donor had proved himself 
unworthy of having them retained ; but it was not Captain 
Claret who would inflict such a cutting wound upon any offi- 
cer’s sensibilities, though long-established naval customs had 
habituated him to scourging the people upon an emergency. 

Now had Captain Claret deemed himself constitutionally 
bound to decline all presents from his subordinates, the sense 
of gratitude would not have operated to the prejudice of jus- 
tice. And, as some of the subordinates of a man-of-war cap- 
tain are apt to invoke his good wishes and mollify his con- 
science by making him friendly gifts, it would perhaps have 
been an excellent thing for him to adopt the plan pursued by 
the President of the United States, when he received a pres- 
ent of lions and Arabian chargers from the. Sultan of Muscat. 
Being forbidden by his sovereign lords and masters, the impe 
rial people, to accept of any gifts from foreign powers, the 
President sent them to an auctioneer, and the proceeds were 
deposited in the Treasury. In the same manner, when Cap- 
tain Claret received his snuff-box and cane, he might have 
accepted them very kindly, and then sold them off to the high- 
ly* 


226 


WHITE-JACKET. 


est bidder, perhaps to the donor himself, who in that case 
would never have tempted him again. 

Upon his return home, Bland was paid off for his full term, 
not deducting the period of his suspension. He again entered 
the service in his old capacity. 

As no further allusion will be made to this affair, it may 
as well be stated now that, for the very brief period elapsing 
between his restoration and being paid off in port by the Pur- 
ser, the master-at-arms conducted himself with infinite discre- 
tion, artfully steering between any relaxation of discipline — 
which would have awakened the displeasure of the officers — 
and any unwise severity — which would have revived, in ten- 
fold force, all the old grudges of the seamen under his command. 

Never did he show so much talent and tact as when vibrat- 
ing in this his most delicate predicament ; and plenty of cause 
was there for the exercise of his cunningest abilities ; for, upon 
the discharge of our man-of-war’ s-men at home, should he 
then be held by them as an enemy, as free and independent 
citizens they would waylay him in the public streets, and take 
purple vengeance for all his iniquities, past, present, and pos- 
sible in the future. More than once a master-at-arms ashore 
has been seized by night by an exasperated crew, and served 
as Origen served himself, or as his enemies served Abelard. 

But though, under extreme provocation, the people of a 
man-of-war have been guilty of the maddest vengeance, yet, 
at other times, they are very placable and milky-hearted, even 
to those who may have outrageously abused them ; many 
things in point might be related, but I forbear. 

This account of the master-at-arms can not better be con- 
cluded than by denominating him, in the vivid language of 
the Captain of the Fore-top, as “ the two ends and middle of 
the thrice-laid strand of a bloody rascal ,” which was intend- 
ed for a terse, well-knit, and all-comprehensive assertion, with- 
out omission or reservation. It was also asserted that, had 
Tophet itself been raked with a fine-tooth comb, such another 
ineffable villain could not by any possibility have been caught. 


CHAPTER XLV. 


PUBLISHING POETRY IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

A day or two after our arrival in Rio, a rather amusing 
incident occurred to a particular acquaintance of mine, young 
Lemsford, the gun-deck hard. 

The great guns of an armed ship have blocks of wood, call- 
ed tompions, painted black, inserted in their muzzles, to keep 
out the spray of the sea. These tompions slip in and out 
very handily, like covers to butter firkins. 

By advice of a friend, Lemsford, alarmed for the fate of 
his box of poetry, had latterly made use of a particular gun 
on the main-deck, in the tube of which he thrust his manu- 
scripts, by simply crawling partly out of the port-hole, remov- 
ing the tompion, inserting his papers, tightly rolled, and mak- 
ing all snug again. 

Breakfast over, he and I were reclining in the main-top — 
where, by permission of my noble master, Jack Chase, I had 
invited him — when, of a sudden, we heard a cannonading. 
It was our own ship. 

“Ah!” said a top-man, “returning the shore salute they 
gave us yesterday.” 

“O Lord!” cried Lemsford, “my Songs of the Sirens /” 
and he ran down the rigging to the batteries ; but just as he 
touched the gun-deck, gun No. 20 — his literary strong-box — 
went off with a terrific report. 

“Well, my after-guard Virgil,” said Jack Chase to him, 
as he slowly returned up the rigging, “ did you get it ? You 
need not answer ; I see you were too late. But never mind, 
my boy ; no printer could do the business for you better. 
That’s the way to publish, White- Jacket,” turning to me — 


228 


WHITE-JACKET. 


“ fire it right into ’em ; every canto a twenty-four-pound 
shot ; hull the blockheads, whether they will or no. And 
mind you, Lemsford, when your shot does the most execution, 
you hear the least from the foe. A killed man can not even 
lisp.” 

“ Glorious Jack !” cried Lemsford, running up and snatch- 
ing him by the hand, “ say that again, Jack ! look me in the 
eyes. By all the Homers, Jack, you have made my soul 
mount like a balloon! Jack, I’m a poor devil of a poet. 
Not two months before I shipped aboard here, I published a 
volume of poems, very aggressive on the world, Jack. Heaven 
knows what it cost me. I published it, Jack, and the cursed 
publisher sued me for damages ; my friends looked sheepish ; 
one or two who liked it were non-committal ; and as for the 
addle-pated mob and rabble, they thought they had found out 
a fool. Blast them, Jack, what they call the public is a 
monster, like the idol we saw in Owhyhee, with the head of 
a jackass, the body of a baboon, and the tail of a scorpion !” 

“ I don’t like that,” said Jack ; “ when I’m ashore, I my- 
self am part of the public.” 

“Your pardon, Jack; you are not. You are then a part 
of the people, just as you are aboard the frigate here. The 
public is one thing, Jack, and the people another.” 

“You are right,” said Jack; “right as this leg. Virgil, 
you are a trump ; you are a jewel, my boy. The public and 
the people ! Ay, ay, my lads, let us hate the one and cleave 
to the other.” 


CHAPTER XL VI. 


THE COMMODORE ON THE POOP, AND ONE OF “ THE PEOPLE” 
UNDER THE HANDS OF THE SURGEON. 

A day or two after the publication of Lemsford’s “ Songs 
of the Sirens,” a sad accident befell a mess-mate of mine, one 
of the captains of the mizzen-top. He was a fine little Scot, 
who, from the premature loss of the hair on the top of his 
head, always went by the name of Baldy. This baldness 
was no doubt, in great part, attributable to the same cause 
that early thins the locks of most man-of-war’ s-men — namely, 
the hard, unyielding, and ponderous man-of-war and navy- 
regulation tarpaulin hat, which, when new, is stiff enough to 
sit upon, and indeed, in lieu of his thumb, sometimes serves 
the common sailor for a bench. 

Now, there is nothing upon which the Commodore of a 
squadron more prides himself than upon the celerity with 
which his men can handle the sails, and go through with all 
the evolutions pertaining thereto. This is especially manifest- 
ed in harbor, when other vessels of his squadron are near, and 
perhaps the armed ships of rival nations. 

Upon these occasions, surrounded by his post-captain sa- 
traps — each of whom in his own floating island is king — the 
Commodore domineers over all — emperor of the whole oaken 
archipelago ; yea, magisterial and magnificent as the Sultan 
of the Isles of Sooloo. 

But, even as so potent an emperor and Caesar to boot as 
the great Don of Germany, Charles the Fifth, was used to 
divert himself in his dotage by watching the gyrations of the 
springs and cogs of a long row of clocks, even so does an 
elderly Commodore while away his leisure in harbor, by what 
is called “ exercising guns ,” and also “ exercising yards and 


230 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


sails;” causing the various spars of all the ships under his 
command to be “ braced,” “ topped,” and “ cock billed” in 
concert, while the Commodore himself sits, something like 
King Canute, on an arm -chest on the poop of his flag-ship. 

But far more regal than any descendant of Charlemagne, 
more haughty than any Mogul of the East, and almost mys- 
terious and voiceless in his authority as the Great Spirit of 
the Five Nations, the Commodore deigns not to verbalize his 
commands ; they are imparted by signal. 

And as for old Charles the Fifth, again, the gay-pranked, 
colored suit3 of cards were invented, to while away his dotage, 
even so, doubtless, must these pretty little signals of blue and 
red spotted bunting have been devised to cheer the old age 
of all Commodores. 

By the Commodore’s side stands the signal-midshipman, 
with a sea-green bag swung on his shoulder (as a sportsman 
bears his game-bag), the signal-book in one hand, and the 
signal-spy-glass in the other. As this signal-book contains the 
Masonic signs and tokens of the navy, and would therefore be 
invaluable to an enemy, its binding is always bordered with 
lead, so as to insure its sinking in case the ship should be 
captured. Not the only book this, that might appropriately 
be bound in lead, though there be many where the author, 
and not the bookbinder, furnishes the metal. 

As White- Jacket understands it, these signals consist of 
variously-colored flags, each standing for a certain number. 
Say there are ten flags, representing the cardinal numbers — 
the red flag, No. 1 ; the blue flag, No. 2 ; the green flag, No. 
3 , and so forth ; then, by mounting the blue flag over the 
red, that would stand for No. 21 : if the green flag were set 
underneath, it would then stand for 213 . How easy, then, 
by endless transpositions, to multiply the various numbers 
that may be exhibited at the mizzen-peak, even by only three 
or four of these flags. 

To each number a particular meaning is applied. No. 
100 , for instance, may mean, “ Beat to quarters” No. 150 , 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


231 


“ All hands to grog.” No. 2000, “ Strike top- gallant- 
yards.” No. 2110, “ See any thing to windward?” No. 
2800, “No.”' 

And as every man-of-war is furnished with a signal-book, 
where all these things are set down in order, therefore, though 
two American frigates — almost perfect strangers to each other 
— came from the opposite Poles, yet at a distance of more than 
a mile they could carry on a very liberal conversation in the air. 

When several men-of-war of one nation lie at anchor in one 
port, forming a wide circle round their lord and master, the 
flag-ship, it is a very interesting sight to see them all obeying 
the Commodore’s orders, who meanwhile never opens his lips. 

Thus was it with us in Rio, and hereby hangs the story of 
my poor mess-mate Baldy. 

One morning, in obedience to a signal from our flag-ship, 
the various vessels belonging to the American squadron then 
in harbor simultaneously loosened their sails to dry. In the 
evening, the signal was set to furl them. Upon such occa- 
sions, great rivalry exists between the First Lieutenants of 
the different ships ; they vie with each other who shall first 
have his sails stowed on the yards. And this rivalry is shared 
between all the officers of each vessel, who are respectively 
placed over the different top-men ; so that the main-mast is 
all eagerness to vanquish the fore-mast, and the mizzen-mast 
to vanquish them both. Stimulated by the shouts of theii 
officers, the sailors throughout the squadron exert themselves 
to the utmost. 

“ Aloft, top-men ! lay out ! furl !” cried the First Lieuten- 
ant of the Neversink. 

At the word the men sprang into the rigging, and on all 
three masts were soon climbing about the yards, in reckless 
haste, to execute their orders. 

Now, in furling top-sails or courses, the point of honor, and 
the hardest work, is in the bunt, or middle of the yard ; this 
post belongs to the first captain of the top. 

“ What are you ’bout there, mizzen-top-men ?” roared the 


23*2 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


First Lieutenant, through his trumpet. “ D — n you, you are 
clumsy as Russian hears ! don’t you see the main-top-men 
are nearly off the yard ? Bear a hand, bear k hand, or I’ll 
stop your grog all round ! You, Baldy ! are you going to sleep 
there in the bunt ?*’ 

While this was being said, poor Baldy — his hat off, his face 
streaming with perspiration — was franticly exerting himself, 
piling up the ponderous folds of canvass in the middle of the 
yard ; ever and anon glancing at victorious Jack Chase, hard 
at work at the main-topsail-yard before him. 

At last, the sail being well piled up, Baldy jumped with 
both feet into the bunt, holding on with one hand to the chain 
“ tie,” and in that manner was violently treading down the 
canvass, to pack it close. 

“ D — n you, Baldy, why don’t you move, you crawling cat- 
erpillar ?” roared the First Lieutenant. 

Baldy brought his whole weight to bear on the rebellious 
sail, and in his frenzied heedlessness let go his hold on the tie. 

“You, Baldy! are you afraid of falling?” cried the First 
Lieutenant. 

At that moment, with all his force, Baldy jumped down 
upon the sail ; the bunt-gasket parted ; and a dark form 
dropped through the air. Lighting upon the top-rim, it roll- 
ed off; and the next instant, with a horrid crash of all his 
bones, Baldy came, like a thunder-bolt, upon the deck. 

Aboard of most large men-of-war there is a stout oaken 
platform, about four feet square, on each side of the quarter- 
deck. You ascend to it by three or four steps ; on top, it is 
railed in at the sides, with horizontal brass bars. It is called 
the Horse Block ; and there the officer of the deck usually 
stands, in giving his orders at sea. 

It was one of these horse blocks, now unoccupied, that 
broke poor Baldy’s fall. He fell lengthwise across the brass 
bars, bending them into elbows, and crushing the whole oak- 
en platform, steps and all, right down to the deck in a thou- 
sand splinters. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


233 


He was picked up for dead, and carried below to the sur- 
geon. His bones seemed like those of a man broken on the 
wheel, and no one thought he would survive the night. But 
with the surgeon’s skillful treatment he soon promised recov- 
ery. Surgeon Cuticle devoted all his science to this case. 

A curious frame-work of wood was made for the maimed 
man ; and placed in this, with all his limbs stretched out, 
Baldy lay flat on the floor of the Sick-bay, for many weeks. 
Upon our arrival home, he was able to hobble ashore on 
crutches ; but from a hale, hearty man, with bronzed cheeks, 
he was become a mere dislocated skeleton, white as foam ; but 
ere this, perhaps, his broken bones are healed and whole in 
the last repose of the man-of-war’ s-man. 

Not many days after Baldy’ s accident in furling sails — in this 
same frenzied manner, under the stimulus of a shouting officer — 
a seaman fell from the main-royal-yard of an English line-of-bat- 
tle ship near us, and buried his ankle-bones in the deck, leaving 
two indentations there, as if scooped out by a carpenter’s gouge. 

The royal-yard forms a cross with the mast, and falling from 
that lofty cross in a line-of-battle ship is almost like falling from 
the cross of St. Paul’s ; almost like falling as Lucifer from 
the well-spring of morning down to the Phlegethon of night. 

In some cases, a man, hurled thus from a yard, has fallen 
upon his own shipmates in the tops, and dragged them down 
with him to the same destruction with himself. 

Hardly ever will you hear of a man-of-war returning home 
after a cruise, without the loss of some of her crew from aloft, 
whereas similar accidents in the merchant service — consider- 
ing the much greater number of men employed in it — are com- 
paratively few. 

Why mince the matter ? The death of most of these man- 
of-war’ s-men lies at the door of the souls of those officers, who, 
while safely standing on deck themselves, scruple not to sacri- 
fice an immortal man or two, in order to show off the excel- 
ling discipline of the ship. And thus do the people of the gun- 
deck suffer, that the Commodore on the poop may be glorified. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 


AN AUCTION IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

Some allusion has been made to the weariness experienced 
by the man-of-war’s-man while lying at anchor ; hut there 
are scenes now and then that serve to relieve it. Chief among 
these are the Purser’s auctions, taking place while in harbor. 
Some weeks, or perhaps months, after a sailor dies in an 
armed vessel, his bag of clothes is in this manner sold, and 
the proceeds transferred to ther* account of his heirs or execu- 
tors. 

One of these auctions came off in Rio, shortly after the sad 
accident of Baldy. 

It was a dreamy, quiet afternoon, and the crew were list- 
lessly lying around, when suddenly the Boatswain’s whistle 
was heard, followed by the announcement, “ D’ye hear there, 
fore and aft ! Purser’s auction on the spar-deck !” 

At the sound, the sailors sprang to their feet and mustered 
t round the main-mast. Presently up came the Purser’s stew- 
ard, marshaling before him three or four of his subordinates, 
carrying several clothes’ bags, which were deposited at the 
base of the mast. 

Our Purser’s steward was a rather gentlemanly man in his 
way. Like many young Americans of his class, he had at 
various times assumed the most opposite functions for a liveli- 
hood, turning from one to the other with all the facility of a 
light-hearted, clever adventurer. He had been a clerk in a 
steamer on the Mississippi River ; an auctioneer in Ohio ; a 
stock actor at the Olympic Theatre in New York ; and now 
he was Purser’s steward in the Navy. In the course of this 
diversified career his natural wit and waggery had been high- 


TH£ WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


235 


lv spiced, and every way improved ; and he had acquired the 
last and most difficult art of the joker, the art of lengthening 
his own face while widening those of his hearers, preserving 
the utmost solemnity while setting them all in a roar. He 
was quite a favorite with the sailors, which, in a good degree, 
was owing to his humor ; but likewise to his off-hand, irre- 
sistible, romantic, theatrical manner of addressing them. 

With a dignified air, he now mounted the pedestal of the 
main-top-sail sheet-bitts, imposing silence by a theatrical wave 
of his hand ; meantime, his subordinates were rummaging the 
bags, and assorting their contents before him. 

“Now, my noble hearties,” he began, “we will open this 
auction by offering to your impartial competition a very su- 
perior pair of old boots and so saying, he dangled aloft one 
clumsy cowhide cylinder, almost as large as a fire bucket, as 
a specimen of the complete pair. 

“ What shall I have now, my noble tars, for this superior 
pair of sea-boots ?” 

“Where’s t’other boot?” cried a suspicious-eyed waister. 
“ I remember them ’ere boots. They were old Bob’s the 
quarter-gunner’s ; there was two on ’em, too I want to see 
t’other boot.” 

“ My sweet and pleasant fellow,” said the Auctioneer, with 
his blandest accents, “ the other boot is not just at hand, but 
I give you my word of honor that it in all respects corresponds 
to the one you here see — it does, I assure you. And I sol- 
emnly guarantee, my noble sea-fencibles,” he added, turning 
round Upon all, “ that the other boot is the exact counterpart 
of this. Now, then, say the word, my fine fellows. What 
shall I have ? Ten dollars, did you say ?” politely bowing to- 
ward some indefinite person in the background. 

“ No ; ten cents,” responded a voice. 

“ Ten cents ! ten cents ! gallant sailors, for this noble pair 
of boots,” exclaimed the auctioneer, with affected horror ; “ I 
must close the auction, my tars of Columbia ; this will never do. 
But let’s have another bid ; now, come,” he added, coaxingly 


236 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


and soothingly. “ What is it ? One dollar ? One dollar, 
then — one dollar; going at one dollar; going, going — going. 
Just see how it vibrates” — swinging the boot to and fro — 
“ this superior pair of sea-boots vibrating at one dollar ; 
wouldn’t pay for the nails in their heels ; going, going — gone!'' 
And down went the boots. 

“ Ah, what a sacrifice ! what a sacrifice !” he sighed, tear- 
fully eyeing the solitary fire-bucket, and then glancing round 
the company for sympathy. 

“A sacrifice, indeed!” exclaimed Jack Chase, who stood 
by ; “ Purser’s Steward, you are Mark Antony over the body 
of Julius Caesar.” 

“ So I am, so I am,” said the auctioneer, without moving 
a muscle. “ And look !” he exclaimed, suddenly seizing the 
boot, and exhibiting it on high, “ look, my noble tars, if you 
have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this 
boot. I remember the first time ever old Bob put it on. 
’Twas on a winter evening, off Cape Horn, between the star- 
board carronades — that day his precious grog was stopped. 
Look ! in this place a mouse has nibbled through ; see what 
a rent some envious rat has made ; through this another filed, 
and, as he plucked his cursed rasp away, mark how the boot- 
leg gaped. This was the unkindest cut of all. But whose 
are the boots ?” suddenly assuming a business-like air ; “ yours ? 
yours ? yours ?” 

But not a friend of the lamented Bob stood by. 

“ Tars of Columbia,” said the auctioneer, imperatively, 
“ these boots must be sold ; and if I can’t sell them one way, I 
must sell them another. How much a pound , now, for this 
superior pair of old boots ? going by the pound now, remem- 
ber, my gallant sailors ! what shall I have ? one cent, do I 
hear ? going now at one cent a pound — going — going — going 
— gone!" 

“ Whose are they ? Yours, Captain of the Waist ? Well, 
my sweet and* pleasant friend, I will have them weighed out 
to you when the auction is over.” 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


237 


In like manner all the contents of the hags were disposed 
of, embracing old frocks, trowsers, and jackets, the various 
sums for which they went being charged to the bidders on 
the books of the Purser. 

Having been present at this auction, though not a purchas- 
er, and seeing with what facility the most dismantled old gar- 
ments went off, through the magical cleverness of the accom- 
plished auctioneer, the thought occurred to me, that if ever I 
calmly and positively decided to dispose of my famous white 
jacket, this would be the very way to do it. I turned the 
matter over in my mind a long time. 

The weather in Rio was genial and warm, and that I 
would ever again need such a thing as a heavy quilted jacket 
— and such a jacket as the white one, too — seemed almost 
impossible. Yet I remembered the American coast, and that 
it would probably be Autumn when we should arrive there. 
Yes, I thought of all that, to be sure ; nevertheless, the un- 
governable whim seized me to sacrifice my jacket and reck- 
lessly abide the consequences. Besides, was it not a horrible 
jacket ? To how many annoyances had it subjected me ? 
How many scrapes had it dragged me into ? Nay, had it not 
once jeopardized my very existence ? And I had a dreadful 
presentiment that, if I persisted in retaining it, it would do so 
again. Enough ! I will sell it, I muttered ; and, so mutter- 
ing, I thrust my hands further down in my waistband, and 
walked the main-top in the stern concentration of an inflexi- 
ble purpose. Next day, hearing that another auction was 
shortly to take place, I repaired to the office of the Purser’s 
steward, with whom I was upon rather friendly terms. Aft- 
er vaguely and delicately hinting at the object of my visit, I 
came roundly to the point, and asked him whether he could 
slip my jacket into one of the bags of clothes next to be sold, 
and so dispose of it by public auction. He kindly acquiesced, 
and the thing was done. 

In due time all hands were again summoned round the 
main-mast ; the Purser’s steward mounted his post, and the 


238 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ceremony began. Meantime, I lingered out of sight, but 
still within hearing, on the gun-deck below, gazing up, un 
perceived, at the scene. 

As it is now so long ago, I will here frankly make confes 
sion that I had privately retained the services of a friend — 
Williams, the Yankee pedagogue and peddler — whose business 
it would be to linger near the scene of the auction, and, if the 
bids on the jacket loitered, to start it roundly himself ; and if 
the bidding then became brisk, he was continually to strike in 
with the most pertinacious and infatuated bids, and so exas- 
perate competition into the maddest and most extravagant 
overtures. 

A variety of other articles having been put up, the white 
jacket was slowly produced, and, held high aloft between the 
auctioneer’s thumb and fore-finger, was submitted to the in- 
spection of the discriminating public. 

Here it behooves me once again to describe my jacket ; for, 
as a portrait taken at one period of life will not answer for a 
later stage; much more this jacket of mine, undergoing so 
many changes, needs to be painted again and again, in order 
truly to present its actual appearance at any given period. 

A premature old age had now settled upon it ; all over it 
bore melancholy scars of the masoned-up pockets that had 
once trenched it in various directions. Some parts of it were 
slightly mildewed from dampness ; on one side several of the 
buttons were gone, and others were broken or cracked ; while, 
alas ! my many mad endeavors to rub it black on the decks 
had now imparted to the whole garment an exceedingly un- 
tidy appearance. Such as it was, with all its faults, the auc- 
tioneer displayed it. 

“You venerable sheet-anchor-men ! and you, gallant fore- 
top-men ! and you, my fine waisters ! what do you say now for 
this superior old jacket? Buttons and sleeves, lining and 
skirts, it must this day be sold without reservation. How 
much for it, my gallant tars of Columbia ? say the word, and 
how much?” 


THE WORLDIN A MAN-0 F-W A R. 


23U 


“My eyes!” exclaimed a fore-top-man, “don’t that ’ere 
bunch of old swabs belong to Jack Chase’s pet ? Arn’t that 
the white jacket ?” 

“ The white jacket /” cried fifty voices in response ; “ the 
white jacket /” The cry ran fore and aft the ship like a 
slogan, completely overwhelming the solitary voice of my 
private friend Williams, while all hands gazed at it with 
straining eyes, wondering how it came among the bags of 
deceased mariners. 

“ Ay, noble tars,” said the auctioneer, “ you may well stare 
at it ; you will not find another jacket like this on either 
side of Cape Horn, I assure you. Why, just look at it ! How 
much, now ? Give me a bid — but don’t be rash ; be pru 
dent, be prudent, men ; remember your Purser’s accounts, 
and don’t be betrayed into extravagant bids.” 

“Purser’s Steward!” cried Grummet, one of the quarter- 
gunners, slowly shifting his quid from one cheek to tho other, 
like a ballast-stone, “ I won’t bid on that ’ere bunch of old 
swabs, unless you put up ten pounds of soap with it.” 

“ Don’t mind that old fellow,” said the auctioneer. “How 
much for the jacket, my noble tars?” 

“Jacket !” cried a dandy bone-polisher of the gun-room. 
“ The sail-maker was the tailor, then. How many fathoms 
of canvass in it, Purser’s Steward ?” 

“How much for this jacket?” reiterated the auctioneer, 
emphatically. 

“Jacket do you call it!” cried a captain of the hold. 
“ Why not call it a white-washed man-of-war schooner ? 
Look at the port-holes, to let in the air of cold nights.” 

“ A reg’lar herring-net,” chimed in Grummet. 

“ Gives me th q fever-nagur to look at it,” echoed a mizzen- 
top-man. 

“ Silence !” cried the auctioneer. “ Start it now — start it, 
boys ; any thing you please, my fine fellows ! it must be 
sold. Come, what ought I to have on it, now ?” 

“ Why, Purser’s Steward,” cried a waister. “you ought to 


240 


WHITE-JACKET. 


have new sleeves, a new lining, and a new body on it, afore 
you try to shove it off on a green-horn.” 

“ What are you busin’ that ’ere garment for ?” cried an 
old sheet-anchor-man. “ Don’t you see it’s a ‘ uniform muster- 
ing jacket’ — three buttons on one side, and none on t’other ?” 

“ Silence !” again cried the auctioneer. “ How much, my 
sea-fencibles, for this superior old jacket?” 

“ Well,” said Grummet, “ I’ll take it for cleaning-rags at 
one cent.” 

“ Oh, come, give us a bid ! say something, Columbians.” 

“ Well, then,” said Grummet, all at once bursting into 
genuine indignation, “ if you want us to say something, then 
heave that bunch of old swabs overboard, say I, and show 
us something worth looking at.” 

“ No one will give me a bid, then ? Very good ; here, 
shove it aside. Let’s have something else there.” 

While this scene was going forward, and my white jacket 
was thus being abused, how my heart swelled within me ! 
Thrice was I on the point of rushing out of my hiding-place, 
and bearing it off from derision ; but I lingered, still flatter- 
ing myself that all would be well, and the jacket find a pur- 
chaser at last. But no, alas ! there was no getting rid of it, 
except by rolling a forty-two-pound shot in it, and commit- 
ting it to the deep. But though, in my desperation, I had 
once contemplated something of that sort, yet I had now 
become unaccountably averse to it, from certain involuntary 
superstitious considerations. If I sink my jacket, thought I, 
it will be sure to spread itself into a bed at the bottom of the 
sea, upon which I shall sooner or later recline, a dead man. 
So, unable to conjure it into the possession of another, and 
withheld from burying it out of sight forever, my jacket stuck 
to me like the fatal shirt on Nessus. 


CHAPTER XL VIII. 

PURSER, PURSER’S STEWARD, AND POSTMASTER IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

As the Purser’s steward so conspicuously figured at the 
unsuccessful auction of my jacket, it reminds me of how im- 
portant a personage that official is on hoard of all men-of-war. 
He is the right-hand man and confidential deputy and clerk 
of the Purser, who intrusts to him all his accounts with the 
crew, while, in most cases, he himself, snug and comfortable 
in his state-room,, glances over a file of newspapers instead of 
overhauling his ledgers. 

Of all the non-combatants of a man-of-war, the Purser, 
perhaps, stands foremost in importance. Though he is but 
a member of the gun-room mess, yet usage seems to assign 
him a conventional station somewhat above that of his equals 
in navy rank — the Chaplain, Surgeon, and Professor. More- 
over, he is frequently to be seen in close conversation with 
the Commodore, who, in the Neversink, was more than once 
known to be slightly jocular with our Purser. IJpon several 
occasions, also, he was called into the Commodore’s cabin, 
and remained closeted there for several minutes together. 
Nor do I remember that there ever happened a cabinet meet- 
ing of the ward-room barons, the Lieutenants, in the Com- 
modore’s cabin, but the Purser made one of the party. 
Doubtless the important fact of the Purser having under his 
charge all the financial affairs of a man-of-war, imparts to 
him the great importance he enjoys. Indeed, we find in 
every government — monarchies and republics alike — that the 
personage at the head of the finances invariably occupies a 
commanding position. Thus, in point of station, the Secre- 
tary of the Treasury of the United States is deemed superior 
to the other heads of departments. Also, in England, the 

L 


242 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


real office held by the great Premier himself is — as every 
one knows — that of First Lord of the Treasury. 

Now, under this high functionary of state, the official known 
as the Purser’s Steward was head clerk of the frigate’s fiscal 
affairs. Upon the berth-deck he had a regular counting-room, 
full of ledgers, journals, and day-books. His desk was as 
much littered with papers as any Pearl Street merchant’s, and 
much time was devoted to his accounts. For hours together 
you would see him, through the window of his subterranean 
office, writing by the light of his perpetual lamp. 

Ex-officio, the Purser’s Steward of most ships is a sort of 
Postmaster, and his office the Post-office. When the letter- 
bags for the squadron — almost as large as those of the United 
States mail — arrived on board the Neversink, it was the Pur- 
ser’s Steward that sat at his little window on the berth-deck 
and handed you your letter or paper — if any there were to 
your address. Some disappointed applicants among the sail- 
ors would offer to buy the epistles of their more fortunate ship- 
mates, while yet the seal was unbroken — maintaining that the 
sole and confidential reading of a fond, long, domestic letter 
from any man’s home, was far better than no letter at all. 

In the vicinity of the office of the Purser’s Steward are the 
principal store-rooms of the Purser, where large quantities of 
goods of eveiy description are to be found. On board of those 
ships where goods are permitted to be served out to the crew 
for the purpose of selling them ashore, to raise money, more 
business is transacted at the office of a Purser’s Steward in 
one Liberty-day morning than all the dry goods shops in a 
considerable village would transact in a week. 

Once a month, with, undeviating regularity, this official has 
his hands more than usually full. For, once a month, certain 
printed bills, called Mess-bills, are circulated among the crew, 
and whatever you may want from the Purser — be it tobacco, 
soap, duck, dungeree, needles, thread, knives, belts, calico, rib- 
bon, pipes, paper, pens, hats, ink, shoes, socks, or whatever it may 
be — down it goes on the mess-bill, which, being the next day 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


243 


returned to the office of the Steward, the “ slops,” as they are 
called, are served out to the men and charged to their accounts. 

Lucky is it for man-of-war’s-men that the outrageous impo- 
sitions to which, hut a very few years ago, they were subjected 
from the abuses in this department of the service, and the un- 
scrupulous cupidity of many of the Pursers — lucky is it for 
them that now these things are in a great degree done away. 
The Pursers, instead of being at liberty to make almost what 
they pleased from the sale of their wares, are now paid by 
regular stipends laid down by law. 

Under the exploded system, the profits of some of these offi- 
cers were almost incredible. In one cruise up the Mediter- 
ranean, the Purser of an American line-of-battle ship was, on 
good authority, said to have cleared the sum of $50,000. 
Upon that he quitted the service, and retired into the coun- 
try. Shortly after, his three daughters — not very lovely — 
married extremely well. 

The ideas that sailors entertain of Pursers is expressed in 
a rather inelegant but expressive saying of theirs : “ The Pur- 
ser is a conjuror ; he can make a dead man chew tobacco” — 
insinuating that the accounts of a dead man are sometimes 
subjected to post-mortem charges. Among sailors, also, Pur- 
sers commonly go by the name of nip-cheeses. 

No wonder that on board of the old frigate Java, upon her 
return from a cruise extending over a period of more than 
four years, one thousand dollars paid off eighty of her crew, 
though the aggregate wages of the eighty for the voyage must 
have amounted to about sixty thousand dollars. Even under 
the present system, the Purser of a line-of-battle ship, for in- 
stance, is far better paid than any other officer, short of Cap- 
tain or Commodore. While the Lieutenant commonly re- 
ceives but eighteen hundred dollars, the Surgeon of the fleet 
but fifteen hundred, the Chaplain twelve hundred, the Purser 
of a line-of-battle ship receives thirty-five hundred dollars. In 
considering his salary, however, his responsibilities are not to 
be overlooked ; they are by no means insignificant. 


244 


WHITE-JACKET. 


There are Pursers in the Navy whom the sailors exempt 
Irorn the insinuations above mentioned, nor, as a class, are 
they so obnoxious to them now as formerly ; for one, the florid 
old Purser of the Neversink — never coming into disciplinary 
contact with the seamen, and being withal a jovial and ap- 
parently good-hearted gentleman — was something of a favor- 
ite with many of the crew. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 


RUMORS OP A WAR, AND HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED BY THE 
POPULATION OF THE NEVERSINK. 

While lying in the harbor of Callao, in Peru, certain 
rumors had come to us touching a war with England, grow- 
ing out of the long- vexed Northeastern Boundary Question. 
In Rio these rumors were increased ; and the probability of 
hostilities induced our Commodore to authorize proceedings 
that closely brought home to every man on board the Never- 
sink his liability at any time to be killed at his gun. 

Among other things, a number of men were detailed to 
pass up the rusty cannon-balls from the shot-lockers in the 
hold, and scrape them clean for service. The Commodore 
was a very neat gentleman, and would not fire a dirty shot 
into his foe. 

It was an interesting occasion for a tranquil observer ; nor 
was it altogether neglected. Not to recite the precise remarks 
made by the seamen while pitching the shot up the hatch- 
way from hand to hand, like schoolboys playing ball ashore, 
it will be enough to say that, from the general drift of their 
discourse — -jocular as it was — it was manifest that, almost to 
a man, they abhorred the idea of going into action. 

And why should they desire a war ? Would their wages 
be raised ? Not a cent. The prize-money, though, ought to 
have been an inducement. But of all the “ rewards of virtue,” 
prize-money is the most uncertain ; and this the man-of-war’s- 
man knows. What, then, has he to expect from war ? What 
but harder work, and harder usage than in peace ; a wooden 
leg or arm ; mortal wounds, and death ? Enough, however, 
that by far the majority of the common sailors of the Never- 


246 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


sink were plainly concerned at the prospect of war, and were 
plainly averse to it. 

But with the officers of the quarter-deck it was just the re- 
verse. None of them, to he sure, in my hearing at least, 
verbally expressed their gratification ; but it was unavoidably 
betrayed by the increased cheerfulness of their demeanor to- 
ward each other, their frequent fraternal conferences, and their 
unwonted animation for several days in issuing their orders. 
The voice of Mad Jack — always a belfry to hear — now re- 
sounded like that famous bell of England, Great Tom of Ox- 
ford. As for Selvagee, he wore his sword with a jaunty air, 
and his servant daily polished the blade. 

But why this contrast between the forecastle and the quar- 
ter-deck, between the man-of-war’s-man and his officer ? Be- 
cause, though war would equally jeopardize the lives of both, 
yet, while it held out to the sailor no promise of promotion, 
and what is called glory , these things fired the breast of his 
officers. 

It is no pleasing task, nor a thankful one, to dive into the 
souls of some men ; but there are occasions when, to bring 
up the mud from the bottom, reveals to us on what sound- 
ings we are, on what coast we adjoin. 

How were these officers to gain glory ? How but by a 
distinguished slaughtering of their fellow-men. How were 
they to be promoted ? How but over the buried heads of 
killed comrades and mess-mates. 

This hostile contrast between the feelings with which the 
common seamen and the officers of the Neversink looked for- 
ward to this more than possible war, is one of many instances 
that might be quoted to show the antagonism of their inter- 
ests, the incurable antagonism in which they dwell. But can 
men, whose interests are diverse, ever hope to live together in 
a harmony uncoerced ? Can the brotherhood of the race of 
mankind ever hope to prevail in a man-of-war, where one 
man’s bane is almost another’s blessing ? By abolishing the 
scourge, shall we do away tyranny ; that tyranny which must 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


247 


ever prevail, where of two essentially antagonist classes in per- 
petual contact, one is immeasurably the stronger ? Surely it 
seems all hut impossible. And as the very object of a man- 
of-war, as its name implies, is to fight the very battles so nat- 
urally averse to the seamen ; so long as a man-of-war exists, 
it must ever remain a picture of much that is tyrannical and 
repelling in human nature. 

Being an establishment much more extensive than the 
American Navy, the English armed marine furnishes a yet 
more striking example of this thing, especially as the exist- 
ence of war produces so vast an augmentation of her naval 
force compared with what it is in time of peace. It is well 
known what joy the news of Bonaparte’s sudden return from 
Elba created among crowds of British naval officers, who had 
previously been expecting to be sent ashore on half-pay. Thus, 
when all the world wailed, these officers found occasion for 
thanksgiving. I urge it not against them as men — their feel- 
ings belonged to their profession. Had they not been naval 
officers, they had not been rejoicers in the midst of despair. 

When shall the time come, how much longer will God 
postpone it, when the clouds, which at times gather over the 
horizons of nations, shall not be hailed by any class of hu- 
manity, and invoked to burst as a bomb ? Standing navies, 
as well as standing armies, serve to keep alive the spirit of 
war even in the meek heart of peace. In its very embers 
and smoulderings, they nourish that fatal fire, and half-pay 
officers, as the priests of Mars, yet guard the temple, though 
no god be there. 


CHAPTER L. 


THE BAY OF ALL BEAUTIES. 

I have said that I must pass over Rio without a descrip- 
tion ; but just now such a flood of scented reminiscences steals 
over me, that I must needs yield and recant, as I inhale that 
musky air. 

More than one hundred and fifty miles’ circuit of living 
green hills imbosoms a translucent expanse, so gemmed in by 
sierras of grass, that among the Indian tribes the place was 
known as “ The Hidden Water.” On all sides, in the dis- 
tance, rise high conical peaks, which at sunrise and sunset 
burn like vast tapers ; and down from the interior, through 
vineyards and forests, flow radiating streams, all emptying 
into the harbor. 

Talk not of Bahia de Todos os Santos — the Bay of All 
Saints ; for though that be a glorious haven, yet Rio is the 
Bay of all Rivers — the Bay of all Delights — the Bay of all 
Beauties. From circumjacent hill- sides, untiring summer 
hangs perpetually in terraces of vivid verdure ; and, embossed 
with old mosses, convent and castle nestle in valley and glen. 

All round, deep inlets run into the green mountain land, 
and, overhung with wild Highlands, more resemble Loch Ka- 
trines than Lake Lemans. And though Loch Katrine has 
been sung by the bonneted Scott, and Lake Leman by the 
coroneted Byron ; yet here, in Rio, both the loch and the lake 
are but two wild flowers in a prospect that is almost unlim- 
ited. For, behold ! far away and away, stretches the broad 
blue of the water, to yonder soft-swelling hills of light green, 
backed by the purple pinnacles and pipes of the grand Organ 
Mountains ; fitly so called, for in thunder-time they roll can- 
nonades down the bay, drowning the blended bass of all the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


249 


cathedrals in Rio. Shout amain, exalt your voices, stamp 
your feet, jubilate, Organ Mountains ! and roll your Te Deums 
round the world ! 

What though, for more than five thousand five hundred 
years, this grand harbor of Rio lay hid in the hills, unknown 
by the Catholic Portuguese ? Centuries ere Haydn perform- 
ed before emperors and kings, these Organ Mountains played 
his Oratorio of the Creation, before the Creator himself. But 
nervous Haydn could not have endured that cannonading 
choir, since this composer of thunder-holts himself died at last 
through the crashing commotion of Napoleon’s bombardment 
of Vienna. 

But all mountains are Organ Mountains : the Alps and the 
Himmelahs ; the Appalachian Chain, the Ural, the Andes, 
the Green Hills and the White. All of them play anthems 
forever : The Messiah, and Samson, and Israel in Egypt, and 
Saul, and Judas Maccabeus, and Solomon. 

Archipelago Rio ! ere Noah on old Ararat anchored his 
ark, there lay anchored in you all these green, rocky isles I 
now see. But God did not build on you, isles ! those long lines 
of* batteries ; nor did our blessed Savior stand godfather at the 
christening of yon frowning fortress of Santa Cruz, though 
named in honor of himself, the divine Prince of Peace ! 

Amphitheatrical Rio ! in your broad expanse might be 
held the Resurrection and Judgment-day of the whole world’s 
men-of-war, represented by the flag-ships of fleets — the flag- 
ships of the Phoenician armed galleys of Tyre and Sidon ; 
of King Solomon’s annual squadrons that sailed to Ophir ; 
whence in after times, perhaps, sailed the Acapulco fleets of 
the Spaniards, with golden ingots for ballasting ; the flag- 
ships of all the Greek and Persian craft that exchanged the 
war-hug at Salamis ; of all the Roman and Egyptian galleys 
that, eagle-like, with blood-dripping prows, beaked each other 
at Actium ; of all the Danish keels of the Vikings ; of all the 
musquito craft of Abba Thule, king of the Pelews, when he 
went to vanquish Artingall ; of all the Venetian, Genoese, and 

L* 


250 


WHITE-JACKET. 


Papal fleets that came to the shock at Lepanto ; of both horns 
of the crescent of the Spanish Armada ; of the Portuguese 
squadron that, under the gallant Gama, chastised the Moors, 
and discovered the Moluccas ; of all the Dutch navies led by 
Van Tromp, and sunk by Admiral Hawke ; of the forty-seven 
French and Spanish sail-of-the-line that, for three months, es- 
sayed to batter down Gibraltar ; of all Nelson’s seventy-fours 
that thunder-bolted ofFSt. Vincent’s, at the Nile, Copenhagen, 
and Trafalgar ; of all the frigate-merchantmen of the East In- 
dia Company ; of Perry’s war-brigs, sloops, and schooners that 
scattered the British armament on Lake Erie ; of all the Bar- 
bary corsairs captured hy Bainbridge ; of the war-canoes of 
the Polynesian kings, Tammahammaha and Pomare — ay ! 
one and all, with Commodore Noah for their Lord High Ad- 
miral — in this abounding Bay of Bio these flag-ships might 
all come to anchor, and swing round in concert to the first of 
the flood. 

Bio is a small Mediterranean ; and what was fabled of the 
entrance to that sea, in Bio is partly made true ; for here, at 
the mouth, stands one of Hercules’ Pillars, the Sugar-Loaf 
Mountain, one thousand feet high, inclining over a little, like 
the Leaning Tower of Pisa. At its base crouch, like mastiffs, 
the batteries of J ose and Theodosia ; while opposite, you are 
menaced by a rock-founded fort. 

The channel between — the sole inlet to the bay — seems but 
a biscuit’s toss over ; you see naught of the land-locked sea 
within till fairly in the strait. But, then, what a sight is be- 
held ! Diversified as the harbor of Constantinople, but a thou- 
sand-fold grander. When the Neversink swept in, word was 
passed, “Aloft, top-men! and furl the t’ -gallant-sails and 
royals !” 

At the sound I sprang into the rigging, and was soon at my 
perch. How I hung over that main-royal-yard in a rapture ! 
High in air, poised over that magnificent bay, a new world to 
my ravished eyes, I felt like the foremost of a flight of angels, 
new-lighted upon earth, from some star in the Milky Way. 


CHAPTER LI. 

ONE OF “ THE PEOPLE” HAS AN AUDIENCE WITH THE COMMO- 
DORE AND THE CAPTAIN ON THE QUARTER-DECK. 

We had not lain in Rio long, when in the innermost recess- 
es of the mighty soul of my noble Captain of the Top — incom- 
parable Jack Chase — the deliberate opinion was formed, and 
rock-founded, that our ship’s company must have at least one 
day’s “ liberty ” to go ashore ere we weighed anchor for home. 

Here it must be mentioned that, concerning any thing of 
this kind, no sailor in a man-of-war ever presumes to be an 
agitator, unless he is of a rank superior to a mere able-sea- 
man ; and no one short of a petty officer — that is, a captain 
of the top, a quarter-gunner, or boatswain’s mate — ever dreams 
of being a spokesman to the supreme authority of the vessel 
in soliciting any kind of favor for himself and shipmates. 

After canvassing the matter thoroughly with several old 
quarter-masters and other dignified sea-fencibles, Jack, hat in 
hand, made his appearance, one fine evening, at the mast, and, 
waiting till Captain Claret drew nigh, bowed, and addressed 
him in his own off-hand, polished, and poetical style. In his 
intercourse with the quarter-deck, he always presumed upon 
his being such a universal favorite. 

“ Sir, this Rio is a charming harbor, and we poor mariners 
— your trusty sea-warriors, valiant Captain ! who, with you 
at their head, would board the Rock of Gibraltar itself, and 
carry it by storm — we poor fellows, valiant Captain ! have 
gazed round upon this ravishing landscape till we can gaze no 
more. Will Captain Claret vouchsafe one day’s liberty, and 
so assure himself of eternal felicity, since, in our flowing cups, 
he will be ever after freshly remembered ?” 

As Jack thus rounded off with a snatch from Shakspeare, 


252 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


he saluted the Captain with a gallant flourish of his tarpau- 
lin, and then, bringing the rim to his mouth, with his head 
bowed, and his body thrown into a fine negligent attitude, 
stood a picture of eloquent but passive appeal. He seemed to 
say, Magnanimous Captain Claret, we fine fellows, and hearts 
of oak, throw ourselves upon your unparalleled goodness. 

“ And what do you want to go ashore for ?” asked the Cap- 
tain, evasively, and trying to conceal his admiration of Jack 
by affecting some haughtiness. 

“ Ah ! sir,” sighed Jack, “ why do the thirsty camels of the 
desert desire to lap the waters of the fountain and roll in the 
green grass of the oasis ? Are we not but just from the 
ocean Sahara ? and is not this Rio a verdant spot, noble Cap- 
tain ? Surely you will not keep us always tethered at an- 
chor, when a little more cable would admit of our cropping 
the herbage ! And it is a weary thing, Captain Claret, to be 
imprisoned month after month on the gun-deck, without so 
much as smelling a citron. Ah ! Captain Claret, what sings 
sweet Waller : 

‘ But who can always on the billows lie ? 

The watery wilderness yields no supply.’ 

Compared with such a prisoner, noble Captain, 

* Happy, thrice happy, who, in battle slain, 

Press’d in Atrides’ cause the Trojan plain!’ 

Pope’s version, sir, not the original Greek.” 

And so saying, Jack once more brought his hat-rim to his 
mouth, and slightly bending forward, stood mute. 

At this juncture the Most Serene Commodore himself hap- 
pened to emerge from the after-gangway, his gilded buttons, 
epaulets, and the gold lace on his chapeau glittering in the 
flooding sunset. Attracted by the scene between Captain 
Claret and so well-known and admired a commoner as Jack 
Chase, he approached, and assuming for the moment an air 
of pleasant condescension — never shown to his noble barons 
the officers of the ward-room — he said, with a smile, “ Well, 
Jack, you and your shipmates are after some favor, I sup- 
pose — a day’s liberty, is it not?” 


fHE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


253 


Whether it was the horizontal setting sun, streaming along 
the deck, that blinded Jack, or whether it was in sun- wor- 
shipping homage of the mighty Commodore, there is no telling ; 
but just at this juncture noble Jack was standing reverential- 
ly holding his hat to his brow, like a man with weak eyes. 

“Valiant Commodore,” said he, at last, “this audience is 
indeed an honor undeserved. I almost sink beneath it. Yes, 
valiant Commodore, your sagacious mind has truly divined 
our object. Liberty, sir ; liberty is, indeed, our humble pray- 
er. I trust your honorable wound, received in glorious battle, 
valiant Commodore, pains you less to-day than common.” 

“Ah ! cunning Jack !” cried the Commodore, by no means 
blind to the bold sortie of his flattery, but not at all displeased 
with it. In more respects than one, our Commodore’s wound 
was his weak side. 

“ I think we must give them liberty,” he added, turning to 
Captain Claret ; who thereupon, waving Jack further off, fell 
into confidential discourse with his superior. 

“ Well, Jack, we will see about it,” at last cried the Com- 
modore, advancing. “ I think we must let you go.” 

“To your duty, captain of the main-top !” said the Captain, 
rather stiffly. He wished to neutralize somewhat the effect 
of the Commodore’s condescension. Besides, he had much 
rather the Commodore had been in his cabin. His presence, 
for the time, affected his own supremacy in his ship. But 
Jack was noways cast down by the Captain’s coldness ; he felt 
safe enough ; so he proceeded to offer his acknowledgments. 

“ * Kind gentlemen,’ ” he sighed, “ ‘ your pains are register- 
ed where every day I turn the leaf to read’ — Macbeth, val- 
iant Commodore and Captain ! — what the Thane says to the 
noble lords, Rosse and Angus.” 

And long and lingeringly bowing to the two noble officers, 
Jack backed away from their presence, still shading his eyes 
with the broad rim of his hat. 

“ Jack Chase forever !” cried his shipmates, as he carried 
the grateful news of liberty to them on the forecastle. “ Who 
can talk to Commodores like our matchless Jack !” 


. CHAPTER LII. 

SOMETHING CONCERNING MIDSHIPMEN. 

It was tlie next morning after matchless Jack’s interview 
with the Commodore and Captain, that a little incident oc- 
curred, soon forgotten by the crew at large, but long remem- 
bered by the few seamen who were in the habit of closely 
scrutinizing every-day proceedings. Upon the face of it, it 
was but a common event — at least in a man-of-war — the 
flogging of a man at the gangway. But the under-current of 
circumstances in the case were of a nature that magnified 
this particular flogging into a matter of no small importance. 
The story itself can not here be related ; it would not well 
bear recital : enough that the person flogged was a middle- 
aged man of the Waist — a forlorn, broken-down, miserable 
object, truly ; one of those wretched landsmen sometimes driv- 
en into the Navy by their unfitness for all things else, even 
as others are driven into the work-house. He was flogged at 
the complaint of a midshipman ; and hereby hangs the drift 
of the thing. For though this waister was so ignoble a mor- 
tal, yet his being scourged on this one occasion indirectly pro- 
ceeded from the mere wanton spite and unscrupulousness of 
the midshipman in question — a youth, who was apt to indulge 
at times in undignified familiarities with some of the men, 
who, sooner or later, almost always suffered from his capricious 
preferences. 

But the leading principle that was involved in this affair is 
far too mischievous to be lightly dismissed. 

In most cases, it would seem to be a cardinal principle with 
a Navy Captain that his subordinates are disintegrated parts 
of himself, detached from the main body on special service, 
and that the order of the minutest midshipman must be as 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


255 


deferentially obeyed by the seamen as if proceeding from the 
Commodore on the poop. This principle was once empha- 
sized in a remarkable manner by the valiant and handsome 
Sir Peter Parker, upon whose death, on a national arson ex- 
pedition on the shores of Chesapeake Bay, in 1812 or 1813, 
Lord Byron wrote his well-known stanzas. “ By the god of 
war !” said Sir Peter to his sailors, “ I’ll make you touch your 
hat to a midshipman’s coat, if it’s only hung on a broomstick 
to dry !” 

That the king, in the eye of the law, can do no wrong, 
is the well-known fiction of despotic states ; but it has re- 
mained for the navies of Constitutional Monarchies and Re- 
publics to magnify this fiction, by indirectly extending it to all 
the quarter-deck subordinates of an armed ship’s chief magis- 
trate. And though judicially unrecognized, and unacknowl- 
edged by the officers themselves, yet this is the principle that 
pervades the fleet ; this is the principle that is every hour 
acted upon, and to sustain which, thousands of seamen have 
been flogged at the gangway. 

However childish, ignorant, stupid, or idiotic a midshipman, 
if he but orders a sailor to perform even the most absurd 
action, that man is not only bound to render instant and un- 
answering obedience, but he would refuse at his peril. And 
if, having obeyed, he should then complain to the Captain, 
and the Captain, in his own mind, should be thoroughly con- 
vinced of the impropriety, perhaps of the illegality of the or- 
der, yet, in nine cases out of ten, he would not publicly repri- 
mand the midshipman, nor by the slightest token admit be- 
fore the complainant that, in this particular thing, the mid- 
shipman had done otherwise than perfectly right. 

Upon a midshipman’s complaining of a seaman to Lord 
Collingwood, when Captain of a line-of-battle ship, he ordered 
the man for punishment ; and, in the interval, calling the 
midshipman aside, said to him, “ In all probability, now, the 
fault is yours — you know ; therefore, when the man is brought 
to the mast, you had better ask for his pardon.” 


256 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Accordingly, upon the lad’s public intercession, Colling- 
wood, turning to the culprit, said, “ This young gentleman 
has pleaded so humanely for you, that, in the hope you feel a 
due gratitude to him for his benevolence, I will, for this time, 
overlook your offence.” This story is related by the editor of 
the Admiral’s “ Correspondence,” to show the Admiral’s kind- 
heartedness. 

Now Collingwood was, in reality, one of the most just, hu- 
mane, and benevolent admirals that ever hoisted a flag. For 
a sea-oflicer, Collingwood was a man in a million. But if a 
man like him, swayed by old usages, could thus violate the 
commonest principle of justice — with however good motives 
at bottom — what must be expected from other Captains not 
so eminently gifted with noble traits as Collingwood ? 

And if the corps of American midshipmen is mostly replen- 
ished from the nursery, the counter, and the lap of unrestrained 
indulgence at home ; and if most of them at least, by their 
impotency as officers, in all important functions at sea, by 
their boyish and overweening conceit of their gold lace, by 
their overbearing manner toward the seamen, and by their 
peculiar aptitude to construe the merest trivialities of man- 
ner into set affronts against their dignity ; if by all this they 
sometimes contract the ill-will of the seamen ; and if, in a 
thousand ways, the seamen can not but betray it — how easy 
for any of these midshipmen, who may happen to be unre- 
strained by moral principle, to resort to spiteful practices in 
procuring vengeance upon the offenders, in many instances to 
the extremity of the lash ; since, as we have seen, the tacit 
principle in the Navy seems to be that, in his ordinary inter- 
course with the sailors, a midshipman can do nothing obnox- 
ious to the public censure ojfliis superiors. 

“ You fellow, I’ll get yo n.'Hcked before long,” is often heard 
from a midshipman to a sailoiv who, in some way not open to 
the judicial action of the Captain, has chanced to offend him. 

At times you will see one of these lads, not five feet high, 
gazing up with inflamed eye at some venerable six-footer of 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


257 


a forecastle-man, cursing and insulting him by every epithet 
deemed most scandalous and unendurable among men. Yet 
that man’s indignant tongue is treble-knotted by the law, that 
suspends death itself over his head should his passion discharge 
the slightest blow at the boy- worm that spits at his feet. 

But since what human nature is, and what it must forever 
continue to be, is well enough understood for most practical 
purposes, it needs no special example to prove that, where the 
merest boys, indiscriminately snatched from the human farh- 
ily, are given such authority over mature men, the results 
must be proportionable in monstrousness to the custom that 
authorizes this worse than cruel absurdity. 

Nor is it unworthy of remark that, while the noblest-mind- 
ed and most heroic sea-officers — men of the topmost stature, 
including Lord Nelson himself — have regarded flogging in the 
Navy with the deepest concern, and not without weighty scru- 
ples touching its general necessity, still, one who has seen 
much of midshipmen can truly say that he has seen but few 
midshipmen who were not enthusiastic advocates and admir- 
ers of scourging. It would almost seem that they themselves, 
having so recently escaped the posterior discipline of the nurs- 
ery and the infant school, are impatient to recover from those 
smarting reminiscences by mincing the backs of full-grown 
American freemen. 

It should not be omitted here, that the midshipmen in the 
English Navy are not permitted to be quite so imperious as 
in the American ships. They are divided into three (I think) 
probationary classes of “ volunteers,” instead of being at once 
advanced to a warrant. Nor will you fail to remark, when 
you see an English cutter officered by one of these volunteers, 
that the boy does not so strut and slap his dirk-hilt with a 
Bobadil air, and anticipatingly fee! of the place where his 
warlike whiskers are going to be, and sputter out oaths so at 
the men, as is too often the case with the little boys wearing 
best-bower anchors on their lapels in the American Navy. 

Yet it must be confessed that at times you see midshipmen 


258 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


who are noble little fellows, and not at all disliked by the 
crew. Besides three gallant youths, one black-eyed little lad 
in particular, in the Neversink, was such a one. From his 
diminutiveness, he went by the name of Boat Plug among 
the seamen. Without being exactly familiar with them, he 
had yet become a general favorite, by reason of his kindness 
of manner, and never cursing them. It was amusing to hear 
some of the older Tritons invoke blessings upon the youngster, 
when his kind tones fell on their weather-beaten ears. “ Ah, 
good luck to you, sir !” touching their hats to the little man ; 
“ you have a soul to be saved, sir !” There was a wonderful 
deal of meaning involved in the latter sentence. You have a 
soul to be saved , is the phrase which a man-of-war’ s-man pe- 
culiarly applies to a humane and kind-hearted officer. It 
also implies that the majority of quarter-deck officers are re- 
garded by them in such a light that they deny to them the 
possession of souls. Ah ! but these plebeians sometimes have 
a sublime vengeance upon patricians. Imagine an outcast 
old sailor seriously cherishing the purely speculative conceit 
that some bully in epaulets, who orders him to and fro like a 
slave, is of an organization immeasurably inferior to himself ; 
must at last perish with the brutes, while he goes to his im- 
mortality in heaven. 

But from what has been said in this chapter, it must not 
be inferred that a midshipman leads a lord’s life in a man-of- 
war. Far from it. He lords it over those below him, while 
lorded over himself by his superiors. It is as if with one hand 
a school-boy snapped his fingers at a dog, and at the same time 
received upon the other the discipline of the usher’s ferule. 
And though, by the American Articles of War, a Navy Cap- 
tain can not, of his own authority, legally punish a midship- 
man, otherwise than by* suspension from duty (the same as 
with respect to the Ward-room officers), yet this is one of 
those sea-statutes which the Captain, to a certain extent, ob- 
serves or disregards at his pleasure. Many instances might 
be related of the petty mortifications and official insults in- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


259 


flicted by some Captains upon their midshipmen ; far more 
severe, in one sense, than the old-fashioned punishment of 
sending them to the mast-head, though not so arbitrary as 
sending them before the mast, to do duty with the common 
sailors — a custom, in former times, pursued by Captains in 
the English Navy. 

Captain Claret himself had no special fondness for mid- 
shipmen. A tall, overgrown young midshipman, about six- 
teen years old, having fallen under his displeasure, he inter- 
rupted the humble apologies he was making, by saying, “ Not 
a word, sir ! I’ll not hear a word ! Mount the netting, sir, 
and stand there till you are ordered to come down !” 

The midshipman obeyed ; and, in full sight of the entire 
ship’s company, Captain Claret promenaded to and fro below 
his lofty perch, reading him a most aggravating lecture upon 
his alleged misconduct. To a lad of sensibility, such treat- 
ment must have been almost as stinging as the lash itself 
would have been. 

In another case a midshipman attempted to carry the day 
by speaking up to his superior ; but in a most unexpected 
manner he paid the penalty of his indiscretion. 

Seeing a reefer’s hammock in the quarter-netting, and ob- 
serving it to be rather equivocally discolored, the Captain de-. 
manded to know what particular midshipman was the pro- 
prietor of that hammock. When the lad appeared, he said 
to him, “ What do you call that, sir ?” pointing at the discol- 
oration. 

“ Captain Claret,” said the unabashed reefer, looking him 
full in the eye, “ you know what that is, sir, as well as I do.” 

“Sol do, sir. Quarter-master ! pitch that hammock over- 
board.” 

The midshipman started, and, hurrying up to it, turned 
round, and said, “ Captain Claret, I have a purse lashed up 
here ; it’s the only safe way I can keep it.” 

“ Did you hear me, quarter-master ?” said the Captain ; and 
overboard went the hammock and purse. 


260 


WHITE-JACKET 


The same afternoon, this midshipman reported his cot-boq 
as having neglected to scrub this identical hammock, though 
repeatedly ordered to do so by his master. Though called a 
cot -boy, the person thus designated happened to be, in fact, a 
full-grown man. The case being fully laid before the Captain 
at the mast, and the midshipman’s charge having been heard, 
this cot-boy, spite of his protestations, and altogether through 
the midshipman’s instrumentality, was condemned to a flog 
gmg. 

Thus it will be seen, that though the Captain permits him- 
self to domineer over a midshipman, and, in cases of personal 
contact with him, does not scruple to pronounce him an egre- 
gious wrong-doer, and treats him accordingly ; yet, in other 
cases, involving the immediate relationship between the mid- 
shipman and the sailor, he still sustains the principle that a 
midshipman can neither say nor do any wrong. 

It is to be remembered that, wherever these chapters treat of 
midshipmen, the officers known as passed-midshipmen are not 
at all referred to. In the American Navy, these officers form 
a class of young men, who, having seen sufficient service at sea 
as midshipmen to pass an examination before a Board of Com- 
modores, are promoted to the rank of passed-midshipmen, in- 
troductory to that of lieutenant. They are supposed to be 
qualified to do duty as lieutenants, and in some cases tem- 
porarily serve as such. The difference between a passed-mid- 
shipman and a midshipman may be also inferred from their 
respective rates of pay. The former, upon sea-service, re- 
ceives $750 a year ; the latter, $400. There were no passed- 
midshipmen in the Neversink. 


CHAPTER LIII. 


SEA-FARING PERSONS PECULIARLY SUBJECT TO BEING UNDER 

THE WEATHER. THE EFFECTS OF THIS UPON A MAN-OF- 

WAR. CAPTAIN. 

It has been said that some midshipmen, in certain cases, 
are guilty of spiteful practices against the man-of-war’s-man. 
But as these midshipmen are presumed to have received the 
liberal and lofty breeding of gentlemen, it would seem all hut 
incredible that any of their corps could descend to the paltri- 
ness of cherishing personal malice against so conventionally 
degraded a being as a sailor. So, indeed, it would seem. But 
when all the circumstances are considered, it will not appear 
extraordinary that some of them should thus cast discredit 
upon the warrants they wear. Title, and rank, and wealth, 
and education can not unmake human nature ; the same in 
cabin-boy and commodore, its only differences he in the dif- 
ferent modes of development. 

At sea, a frigate houses and homes five hundred mortals 
in a space so contracted that they can hardly so much as 
move but they touch. Cut off from all those outward pass- 
ing things which ashore employ the eyes, tongues, and thoughts 
of landsmen, the inmates of a frigate are thrown upon them- 
selves and each other, and all their ponderings are introspect- 
ive. A morbidness of mind is often the consequence, espe- 
cially upon long voyages, accompanied by foul weather, calms, 
or head-winds. Nor does this exempt from its evil influence 
any rank on hoard. Indeed, high station only ministers to it 
the more, since the higher the rank in a man-of-war, the less 
companionship. 

It is an odious, unthankful, repugnant thing to dwell upon 


262 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


a subject like this ; nevertheless, be it said, that, through 
these jaundiced influences, even the captain of a frigate is, in 
some cases, indirectly induced to the infliction of corporal 
punishment upon a seaman. Never sail under a navy cap 
tain whom you suspect of being dyspeptic, or constitutionally 
prone to hypochondria. 

The manifestation of these things is sometimes remarka- 
ble. In the earlier part of the cruise, while making a long, 
tedious run from Mazatlan to Callao on the Main, baffled 
by light head winds and frequent intermitting calms, when 
all hands were heartily wearied by the torrid, monotonous 
sea, a good-natured fore-top-man, by the name of Candy — 
quite a character in his way — standing in the waist among 
a crowd of seamen, touched me, and said, “ D’ye see the 
old man there, White-Jacket, walking the poop ? Well, 
don’t he look as if he wanted to flog some one ? Look at 
him once.” 

But to me, at least, no such indications were visible in the 
deportment of the Captain, though his thrashing the arm- 
chest with the slack of the spanker-out-haul looked a little 
suspicious. But any one might have been doing that to pass 
away a calm. 

“ Depend on it,” said the top-man, “ he must somehow have 
thought I was making sport of him a while ago, when I was 
only taking off old Priming, the gunner’s mate. Just look at 
him once, White- Jacket, while I make believe coil this here 
rope ; if there arn’t a dozen in that ’ere Captain’s top-lights, 
my name is horse-marine. If I could only touch my tile to 
him now, and take my Bible oath on it, that I was only 
taking off Priming, and not him, he wouldn’t have such hard 
thoughts of me. But that can’t be done ; he’d think I 
meant to insult him. Well, it can’t be helped ; I suppose I 
must look out for a baker’s dozen afore long.” 

I had an incredulous laugh at this. But two days after- 
ward, when we were hoisting the main-top-mast stun’-sail, 
and the Lieutenant of the Watch was reprimanding the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


2G3 


crowd of seamen at the halyards for their laziness — for the 
sail was hut just crawling up to its place, owing to the lan- 
guor of the men, induced by the heat — the Captain, who had 
been impatiently walking the deck, suddenly stopped short, 
and darting his eyes among the seamen, suddenly fixed them, 
crying out, “ You, Candy, and be damned to you, you don’t 
pull an ounce, you blackguard ! Stand up to that gun, sir ; 
I’ll teach you to be grinning over a rope that way, without 
lending your pound of beef to it. Boatswain’s mate, where’s 
your colt ? Give that man a dozen.” 

Removing his hat, the boatswain’s mate looked into the 
crown aghast ; the coiled rope, usually worn there, was not 
to be found ; but the next instant it slid from the top of his 
head to the deck. Picking it up, and straightening it out, 
he advanced toward the sailor. 

“ Sir,” said Candy, touching and retouching his cap to 
the Captain, “ I was pulling, sir, as much as the rest, sir ; I 
was, indeed, sir.” 

“ Stand up to that gun,” cried the Captain. “ Boatswain’s 
mate, do your duty.” 

Three stripes were given, when the Captain raised his 

finger. “You , # do you dare stand up to be flogged 

with your hat on ! Take it off, sir, instantly.” 

Candy dropped it on deck. 

“ Now go on, boatswain’s mate.” And the sailor received 
his dozen. 

With his hand to his back he came up to me, where I 
stood among the by-standers, saying, “ O Lord, O Lord ! that 
boatswain’s mate, too, had a spite agin me ; he always 
thought it was me that set afloat that yarn about his wife 
in Norfolk. O Lord ! just run your hand under my shirt, 
will you, White- Jacket ? There ! didn’t he have a spite agin 
me, to raise such bars as them ? And my shirt all cut to 

The phrase here used I have never seen either written or printed, 
and should not like to be the first person to introduce it to the public 


•264 


WHITE-JACKET. 


pieces, too — arn’t it, White- Jacket ? Damn me, but these 
coltings puts the tin in the Purser’s pocket. O Lord ! my 
back feels as if there was a red-hot gridiron lashed to it. 
But I told you so — a widow’s curse on him, say I — he thought 
I meant him, and not Priming.” 


CHAPTER LIV. 

“ THE PEOPLE” ARE GIVEN “ LIBERTY.” 

Whenever, in intervals of mild benevolence, or yielding 
to mere politic dictates, Kings and Commodores relax the 
yoke of servitude, they should see to it well that the conces- 
sion seem not too sudden or unqualified ; for, in the common- 
er’s estimation, that might argue feebleness or fear. 

Hence it was, perhaps, that, though noble Jack had car- 
ried the day captive in his audience at the mast, yet more 
than thirty-six hours elapsed ere any thing official was heard 
of the “liberty” his shipmates so earnestly coveted. Some 
of the people began to growl and grumble. 

“It’s turned out all gammon, Jack,” said one. 

“ Blast the Cofhmodore !” cried another, “ he bamboozled 
you, Jack.” 

“ Lay on your oars a while,” answered Jack, “ and we shall 
see ; we’ve struck for liberty, and liberty we’ll have ! I’m 
your tribune, boys ; I’m your Rienzi. The Commodore must 
keep his word.” 

Next day, about breakfast-time, a mighty whistling and 
piping was heard at the main-hatchway, and presently the 
boatswain’s voice was heard : “ D’ye hear there, fore and aft ! 
all you starboard-quarter watch ! get ready to go ashore on 
liberty !” 

In a paroxysm of delight, a young mizzen-top-man, stand- 
ing by at the time, whipped the tarpaulin from his head, and 
smashed it like a pancake on the deck. “ Liberty !” he shout- 
ed, leaping down into the berth-deck after his bag. 

At the appointed hour, the quarter-watch mustered round 
the capstan, at which stood our old First Lord of the Treas- 

M 


266 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ury and Pay-Master-General, the Purser, with several goodly 
huck-skin bags of dollars, piled up on the capstan. He help- 
ed us all round to half a handful or so, and then the boats 
were manned, and, like so many Esterhazys, we were pulled 
ashore by our shipmates. All their lives lords may live in 
listless state ; but give the commoners a holiday, and they out- 
lord the Commodore himself. 

The ship’s company were divided into four sections or quar- 
ter-watches, only one of which were on shore at a time, the 
rest remaining to garrison the frigate — the term of liberty for 
each being twenty-four hours. 

With Jack Chase and a few other discreet and gentleman- 
ly top-men, I went ashore on the first day, with the first quar- 
ter-watch. Our own little party had a charming time ; we 
saw many fine sights ; fell in — as all sailors must — with dash- 
ing adventures. But, though not a few good chapters might 
be written on this head, I must again forbear ; for in this book 
I have nothing to do with the shore further than to glance at 
it, now and then, from the water ; my man-of-war world alone 
must supply me with the staple of my matter ; I have taken 
an oath to keep afloat to the last letter of my narrative. 

Had they all been as punctual as Jack Chase’s party, the 
whole quarter-watch of liberty-men had been safe on board 
the frigate at the expiration of the twenty-four hours. But 
this was not the case ; and during the entire day succeeding, 
the midshipmen and others were engaged in ferreting them 
out of their hiding-places on shore, and bringing them off in 
scattered detachments to the ship. 

They came in all imaginable stages of intoxication ; some 
with blackened eyes and broken heads ; some still more se- 
verely injured, having been stabbed in frays with the Portu- 
guese soldiers. Others, unharmed, were immediately dropped 
on the gun-deck, between the guns, where they lay snoring 
for the rest of the day. As a considerable degree of license is 
invariably permitted to man-of-war’ s-men just “ off liberty,” 
and as man-of-war’ s-men well know this to be the case, they 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


267 


occasionally avail themselves of the privilege to talk very 
frankly to the officers when they first cross the gangway, tak- 
ing care, meanwhile, to reel about very industriously, so that 
there shall be no doubt about their being seriously intoxicated, 
and altogether 7ion compos for the time. And though but 
few of them have cause to feign intoxication, yet some indi- 
viduals may be suspected of enacting a studied part upon these 
occasions. Indeed — judging by certain symptoms — even 
when really inebriated, some of the sailors must have previ- 
ously determined upon their conduct ; just as some persons 
who, before taking the exhilarating gas, secretly make up 
their minds to perform certain mad feats while under its in- 
fluence, which feats consequently come to pass precisely as if 
the actors were not accountable for them. 

For several days, while the other quarter- watches were 
given liberty, the Neversink presented a sad scene. She was 
more like a mad-house than a frigate ; the gun-deck resounded 
with frantic fights, shouts, and songs. All visitors from shore 
were kept at a cable’s length. 

These scenes, however, are nothing to those which have 
repeatedly been enacted in American men-of-war upon other 
stations. But the custom of introducing women on board, in 
harbor, is now pretty much discontinued, both in the English 
and American Navy, unless a ship, commanded by some disso 
lute Captain, happens to lie in some far away, outlandish port, 
in the Pacific or Indian Ocean. 

The British line-of-battle ship, Royal George, which in 
1782 sunk at her anchors at Spithead, carried down three 
hundred English women among the one thousand souls that 
were drowned on that memorable morning. 

When, at last, after all the mad tumult and contention of 
Liberty,” the reaction came, our frigate presented a verj 
different scene. The men looked jaded and wan, lethargic 
and lazy ; and many an old mariner, with hand upon abdomen, 
called upon the Flag-staff to witness that there were more 
hot coppers in the Neversink than those in the ship’s galley. 


Such are the lamentable effects of suddenly and completely 
deasing “ the people” of a man-of-war from arbitrary dis- 
apline. It shows that, to such, “ liberty,” at first, must be 
vdministered in small and moderate quantities, increasing with 
he patient’s capacity to make a good use of it. 

Of course, while we lay in Rio, our officers frequently went 
\shore for pleasure, and, as a general thing, conducted them- 
lelves with propriety. But it is a sad thing to say, that, as 
for Lieutenant Mad Jack, he enjoyed himself so delightfully 
for three consecutive days in the town, that, upon returning 
to the ship, he sent his card to the Surgeon, with his compli- 
ments, begging him to drop into his state-room the first time 
he happened to pass that way in the ward-room. 

But one of our Surgeon’s mates, a young medico of fine 
family but slender fortune, must have created by far the stron- 
gest impression among the hidalgoes of Rio. He had read 
Don Quixote, and, instead of curing him of his Quixotism, as 
it ought to have done, it only made him still more Quixotic. 
Indeed, there are some natures concerning whose moral mala- 
dies the grand maxim of Mr. Similia Similibus Curantur 
Ilahneman does not hold true, since, with them, like cures not 
like , but only aggravates like. Though, on the other hand, 
so incurable are the moral maladies of such persons, that the 
antagonist maxim, contraria contrariis curantur , often proves 
equally false. 

Of a warm tropical day, this Surgeon’s mate must needs 
go ashore in his blue cloth boat-cloak, wearing it, with a gal- 
lant Spanish toss, over his cavalier shoulder. By noon, he per- 
spired very freely ; but then his cloak attracted all eyes, and 
that was huge satisfaction. Nevertheless, his being knock- 
kneed, and spavined of one leg, sorely impaired the effect of this 
hidalgo cloak, which, by-the-way, was somewhat rusty in front, 
where his chin rubbed against it, and a good deal bedraggled 
all over, from his having used it as a counterpane off Cape Horn. 

As for the midshipmen, there is no knowing what their 
majnmas would have said to their conduct in Rio. Three of 


2 (\ 


4 

tup: world in a m a n-o f-w a r. 


them drank a good deal loo much ; and when they came or 
board, the Captain ordered them to be sewed up in their harm 
mocks, to cut short their obstreperous capers till sober. 

This shows how unwise it is to allow children yet in their 
teens to wander so far from home. It more especially illus- 
trates the folly of giving them long holidays in a foreign land, 
full of seductive dissipation. Port for men, claret for boys, 
cried Dr. Johnson. Even so, men only should drink the 
strong drink of travel ; boys should still be kept on milk and 
water at home. Middies ! you may despise your mother’s 
leading-strings, but they are the man-ropes, my lads, by which 
many youngsters have steadied the giddiness of youth, and 
saved themselves from lamentable falls. And middies ! know 
this, that as infants, being too early put on their feet, grow 
up bandy-legged, and curtailed of their fair proportions, even so, 
my dear middies, does it morally prove with some of you, 
who prematurely are sent off to sea. 

These admonitions are solely addressed to the more dimin 
utive class of midshipmen — those under five feet high, and 
under seven stone in weight. 

Truly, the records of the steerages of men-of-war are full 
of most melancholy examples of early dissipation, disease, dis- 
grace, and death. Answer, ye shades of fine boys, who in the 
soils of all climes, the round world over, far away sleep from 
your homes. 

Mothers of men ! If your hearts have been cast down 
when your boys have fallen in the way of temptations Ashore, 
how much more bursting your grief, did you know that those 
boys were far from your arms, cabined and cribbed in by all 
manner of iniquities. But this some of you can not believe. 
It is, perhaps, well that it is so. 

But, hold them last — all those who have not yet weighed 
their anchors for the Navy — round and round, hitch over hitch, 
bind your leading-strings on them, and, clinching a ring-bolt 
into your chimney-jam, moor your boys fast to that best of 
harbors, the hearth-stone. 


270 


WHITE-JACKET. 


But if youth be giddy, old age is staid ; even as young sap- 
lings, in the litheness of their limbs, toss to their roots in the 
fresh morning air ; hut, stiff and unyielding with age, mossy 
trunks never bend. With pride and pleasure be it said, that, 
as for our old Commodore, though he might treat himself to 
as many “ liberty days ” as he pleased, yet throughout our 
stay in Rio he conducted himself with the utmost discretion. 

But he was an old, old man ; physically, a very small man ; 
his spine was as an unloaded musket-barrel — not only atten- 
uated, but destitute of a solitary cartridge, and his ribs were 
as the ribs of a weasel. 

Besides, he was Commodore of the fleet, supreme lord of 
the Commons in Blue. It beseemed him, therefore, to erect 
himself into an ensample of virtue, and show the gun-deck 
what virtue was. But alas ! when Virtue sits high aloft on 
a frigate’s poop, when Virtue is crowned in the cabin a Com- 
modore, when Virtue rules by compulsion, and domineers over 
Vice as a slave, then Virtue, though her mandates be out- 
wardly observed, bears little interior sway. To be efficacious, 
Virtue must come down from aloft, even as our blessed Re- 
deemer came down to redeem our whole man-of-war world ; 
to that end, mixing with its sailors and sinners as equals. 


CHAPTER LV. 


MIDSHIPMEN ENTERING THE NAVY EARLY. 

The allusion in the preceding chapter to the early age a. 
which some of the midshipmen enter the Navy, suggests some 
thoughts relative to more important considerations. 

A very general modern impression seems to he, that, in or- 
der to learn the profession of a sea-officer, a hoy can hardly 
be sent to sea too early. To a certain extent, this may be a 
mistake. Other professions, involving a knowledge of tech- 
nicalities and things restricted to one particular field of action, 
are frequently mastered by men who begin after the age of 
twenty-one, or even at a later period of life. It was only 
about the middle of the seventeenth century that the British 
military and naval services were kept distinct. Previous to 
that epoch the king’s officers commanded indifferently either 
by sea or by land. 

Robert Blake, perhaps one of the most accomplished, and 
certainly one of the most successful Admirals that ever hoisted 
a flag, was more than half a century old (fifty-one years) be- 
fore he entered the naval service, or had aught to do, profes- 
sionally, with a ship. He was of a studious turn, and, after 
leaving Oxford, resided quietly on his estate, a country gentle- 
man, till his forty-second year, soon after which he became 
connected with the Parliamentary army. 

The historian Clarendon says of him, “ He was the first 
man that made it manifest that the science (seamanship) might 
be attained in less time than was imagined.” And doubtless 
it was to his shore sympathies that the well-known humanity 
and kindness which Blake evinced in his intercourse with the 
sailors is in a large degree to be imputed. 


272 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Midshipmen sent into the Navy at a very early age are ex- 
posed to the passive reception of all the prejudices of the quar- 
ter-deck in favor of ancient usages, however useless or perni- 
cious ; those prejudices grow up with them, and solidify with 
their very bones. As they rise in rank, they naturally carry 
them up, whence the inveterate repugnance of many Commo- 
dores and Captains to the slightest innovations in the service, 
however salutary they may appear to landsmen. 

It is hardly to he doubted that, in matters connected with 
the general welfare of the Navy, government has paid, rather 
too much deference to the opinions of the officers of the Navy, 
considering them as men almost horn to the service, and there- 
fore far better qualified to judge concerning any and all ques- 
tions touching it than people on shore. But in a nation under 
a liberal Constitution, it must ever he unwise to make (too 
distinct and peculiar the profession of either branch of its mil- 
itary men. True, in a country like ours, nothing is at pres- 
ent to he apprehended of their gaining political rule ; but not 
a little is to be apprehended concerning their perpetuating or 
creating abuses among their subordinates, unless civilians 
have full cognizance of their administrative affairs, and ac- 
count themselves competent to the complete overlooking and 
ordering them. 

We do wrong when we in any way contribute to the pre- 
vailing mystification that has been thrown about the internal 
affairs of the national sea-service. Hitherto those affairs have 
been regarded even by some high state functionaries as things 
beyond their insight — altogether too technical and mysterious 
to be fully comprehended by landsmen. And this it is that 
has perpetuated in the Navy many evils that otherwise would 
have been abolished in the general amelioration of other things. 
The army is sometimes remodeled, but the Navy goes down 
from generation to generation almost untouched and unques- 
tioned, as if its code were infallible, and itself a piece of perfec- 
tion that no statesman could improve. When a Secretary of 
the Navy ventures to innovate upon its established customs, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


273 


you hear some of the Navy officers say, “ What does this 
landsman know about our affairs ? Did he ever head a 
watch ? He does not know starboardjrom larboard, girt-line 
from back-stay.” 

While we deferentially and cheerfully leave to navy offi- 
cers the sole conduct of making and shortening sail, tacking 
ship, and performing other nautical maneuvres, as may seem 
to them best ; let us beware of abandoning to their discretion 
those general municipal regulations touching the well-being - 
of the great body of men before the mast ; let us beware of 
being too much influenced by their opinions in matters where 
it is but natural to suppose that their long-established preju- 
dices are enlisted. 

M* 


CHAPTER LVI. 


A SHORE EMPEROR ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR. 

While we lay in Rio, we sometimes had company from 
shore ; but an unforeseen honor awaited us. One day, the 
young Emperor, Don Pedro II., and suite — making a circuit 
of the harbor, and visiting all the men-of-war in rotation — at 
last condescendingly visited the Neversink. 

He came in a splendid barge, rowed by thirty African 
slaves, who, after the Brazilian manner, in concert rose up- 
right to their oars at every stroke ; then sank backward again 
to their seats with a simultaneous groan. 

He reclined under a canopy of yellow silk, looped with tas- 
sels of green, the national colors. At the stern waved the 
Brazilian flag, bearing a large diamond figure in the centre, 
emblematical, perhaps, of the mines of precious stones in the 
interior ; or, it may be, a magnified portrait of the famous 
“ Portuguese diamond” itself, which was found in Brazil, in 
the district of Tejuco, on the banks of the Rio Belmonte. 

We gave them a grand salute, which almost made the 
ship’s live-oak knees, knock together with the tremendous con- 
cussions. We manned the yards, and went through a long 
ceremonial of paying the Emperor homage. Republicans are 
often more courteous to royalty than royalists themselves. 
But doubtless this springs from a noble magnanimity. 

At the gangway, the Emperor was received by our Com- 
modore in person, arrayed in his most resplendent coat and 
finest French epaulets. His servant had devoted himself to 
polishing every button that morning with rotten-stone and 
rags — your sea air is a sworn foe to metallic glosses ; whence 
it comes that the swords of sea-officers have, of late, so rusted 
at their scabbards that they are with difficulty drawn. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


275 


It was a fine sight to see this Emperor and Commodore 
complimenting each other. Both wore chapeaux- de-bras, and 
both continually waved them. By instinct, the Emperor 
knew that the venerable personage before him was as much 
a monarch afloat as he himself was ashore. Did not our 
Commodore carry the sword of state by his side ? For though 
not borne before him, it must have been a sword of state, 
since it looked far too lustrous to have been his fighting sword. 
That was naught but a limber steel blade, with a plain, serv- 
iceable handle, like the handle of a slaughter-house knife. 

Who ever saw a star when the noon sun was in sight ? 
But you seldom see a king without satellites. In the suite of 
the youthful Emperor came a princely train ; so brilliant with 
gems, that they seemed just emerged from the mines of the 
Rio Belmonte. 

You have seen cones of crystallized salt ? Just so flashed 
these Portuguese Barons, Marquises, Viscounts, and Counts. 
Were it not for their titles, and being seen in the train of 
their lord, you would have sworn they were eldest sons of 
jewelers all, who had run away with their fathers’ cases on 
their backs. 

Contrasted with these lamp-lustres of Barons of Brazil, how 
waned the gold lace of our barons of the frigate, the officers 
of the gun-room ! and compared with the long, jewel-hilted 
rapiers of the Marquises, the little dirks of our cadets of no- 
ble houses — the middies— looked like gilded tenpenny nails in 
their girdles. 

But there they stood ! Commodore and Emperor, Lieuten- 
ants and Marquises, middies and pages ! The brazen band 
on the poop struck up ; the marine guard presented arms ; 
and high aloft, looking down on this scene, all the people vig- 
orously hurraed. A top -man next me on the main-royal- 
yard removed his hat, and diligently manipulated his head 
in honor of the event ; but he was so far out of sight in the 
clouds, that this ceremony went for nothing. 

A great pity it was, that in addition to all these honors. 


276 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


that admirer of Portuguese literature, Viscount Strangford, of 
Great Britain — who, I believe, once went out Embassador 
Extraordinary to the Brazils — it was a pity that he was not 
present on this occasion, to yield his tribute of “ A Stanza to 
Braganza !” For our royal visitor was an undoubted Bra- 
ganza, allied to nearly all the great families of Europe. His 
grandfather, John VI., had been King of Portugal ; his own 
sister, Maria, was now its queen. He was, indeed, a distin- 
guished young gentleman, entitled to high consideration, and 
that consideration was most cheerfully accorded him. 

He wore a green dress-coat, with one regal morning-star 
at the breast, and white pantaloons. In his chapeau was a 
single, bright, golden-hued feather of the Imperial Toucan 
fowl, a magnificent, omnivorous, broad-billed bandit bird of 
prey, a native of Brazil. Its perch is on the loftiest trees, 
whence it looks down upon all humbler fowls, and, hawk-like, 
flies at their throats. The Toucan once formed part of the 
savage regalia of the Indian caciques of the country, and, 
upon the establishment of the empire, was symbolically re- 
tained by the Portuguese sovereigns. 

His Imperial Majesty was yet in his youth ; rather corpu- 
lent, if any thing, with a care-free, pleasant face, and a polite, 
indifferent, and easy address. His manners, indeed, were en- 
tirely unexceptionable. 

Now here, thought I, is a very fine lad, with very fine 
prospects before him. He is supreme Emperor of all these 
Brazils ; he has no stormy night-watches to stand ; he can 
jay abed of mornings just as long as he pleases. Any gen- 
tleman in Bio would be proud of his personal acquaintance, 
and the prettiest girl in all South America would deem her- 
self honored with the least glance from the acutest angle of 
his eye. 

Yes : this young Emperor will have a fine time of this 
life, even so long as he condescends to exist. Every one 
jumps to obey him ; and see, as I live, there is an old noble- 
man in his suit — the Marquis d’Acarty they call him, old 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


277 


enough to he his grandfather — who, in the hot sun, is stand- 
ing bareheaded before him, while the Emperor carries his hat 
on his head. 

“ I suppose that old gentleman, now,” said a young New 
England tar beside me, “ would consider it a great honor to 
put on his Royal Majesty’s boots ; and yet, White- Jacket, if 
yonder Emperor and I were to strip and jump overboard for 
a bath, it would be hard telling which was of the blood royal 
when we should once be in the water. Look you, Don Pe- 
dro II.,” he added, “ how do you come to be Emperor ? Tell 
me that. You can not pull as many pounds as I on the 
main-topsail-halyards ; you are not as tall as I ; your nose is 
a pug, and mine is a cut- water ; and how do you come to be 
a * brigand ,’ with that thin pair of spars ? A brigand , 
indeed !” 

“ Braganza, you mean,” said I, willing to correct the 
rhetoric of so fierce a republican, and, by so doing, chastise 
his censoriousness. 

“ Braganza ! br agger it is,” he replied ; “ and a bragger, 
indeed. See that feather in his cap ! See how he struts in 
that coat ! He may well wear a green one, top-mates — he’s 
a green-looking swab at the best.” 

“ Hush, Jonathan,” said I ; “ there’s the First Luff look- 
ing up. Be still ! the Emperor w r ill hear you and I put 
my hand on his mouth. 

“ Take your hand away, White- Jacket,” he cried ; “ there’s 
no law up aloft here. I say, you Emperor — you green-hom 
in the green coat, there — look you, you can’t raise a pair of 
whiskers yet ; and see what a pair of homeward-bounders I 
have on my jowls ! Don Pedro , eh ? What’s that, after 
all, but plain Peter — reckoned a shabby name in my coun- 
try. Damn me, White- Jacket, I wouldn’t call my dog Pe- 
ter !” 

“ Clap a stopper on your jaw-tackle, will you ?” cried Ring- 
bolt, the sailor on the other side of him. “ You’ll be getting 
us all into darbies for this.” 


278 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


“ I won’t trice up my red rag for nobody,” retorted Jona- 
than. “ So you had better take a round turn with yours, 
Ringbolt, and let me alone, or I’ll fetch you such a swat over 
your figure-head, you’ll think a Long Wharf truck-horse kicked 
you with all four shoes on one hoof ! You Emperor — you 
counter-jumping son of a gun — cock your weather eye up 
aloft here, and see your betters ! I say, top-mates, he ain’t 
any Emperor at all — I’m the rightful Emperor. Yes, by 
the Commodore’s boots ! they stole me out of my cradle here 
in the palace at Rio, and put that green-horn in my place. 
Ay, you timber-head, you, I’m Don Pedro II., and by good 
rights you ought to be a main-top-man here, with your fist in 
a tar-bucket ! Look you, I say, that crown of yours ought 
to be on my head ; or, if you don’t believe that , just heave it 
into the ring once, and see who’s the best man.” 

“ What’s this hurra’s nest here aloft ?” cried Jack Chase, 
coming up the t’-gallant rigging from the top-sail yard. 
“ Can’t you behave yourself, royal-yard-men, when an Em- 
peror’s on board ?” 

“ It’s this here Jonathan,” answered Ringbolt ; “ he’s been 
blackguarding the young nob in the green coat, there. He 
says Don Pedro stole his hat.” 

“How?” 

“ Crown, he means, noble Jack,” said a top-man. 

“Jonathan don’t call himself an Emperor, does he ?” asked 
Jack. 

“Yes,” cried Jonathan; “that green-horn, standing there 
by the Commodore, is sailing under false colors ; he’s an im- 
postor, I say ; he wears my crown.” 

“ Ha ! ha !” laughed Jack, now seeing into the joke, and 
willing to humor it ; “ though I’m born a Briton, boys, yet, 
by the mast ! these Don Pedros are all Perkin Warbecks. 
But I say, Jonathan, my lad, don’t pipe your eye now about 
the loss of your crown; for, look you, we all wear crowns, 
from our cradles to our graves, and though in double-darbies 
in the brig, the Commodore himself can’t unking us.” 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


279 


“ A riddle, noble Jack.” 

“ Not a bit ; every man who has a sole to his foot has a 
crown to his head. Here’s mine;” and so saying, Jack, re- 
moving his tarpaulin, exhibited a bald spot, just about the 
bigness of a crown-piece, on the summit of his curly and 
classical head. 


CHAPTER LVII. 


THE EMPEROR REVIEWS THE PEOPLE AT QUARTERS. 

I beg their Royal Highnesses’ pardons all round, hut I had 
almost forgotten to chronicle the fact, that with the Emperor 
came several other royal Princes — kings for aught we knew — 
since it was just after the celebration of the nuptials of a 
younger sister of the Brazilian monarch to some European roy- 
alty. Indeed, the Emperor and his suite formed a sort of bri- 
dal party, only the bride herself was absent. 

The first reception over, the smoke of the cannonading sa- 
lute having cleared away, and the martial outburst of the 
brass band having also rolled off to leeward, the people were 
called down from the yards, and the drum beat to quarters. 

To quarters we went ; and there we stood up by our iron 
bull-dogs, while our royal and noble visitors promenaded along 
the batteries, breaking out into frequent exclamations at our 
warlike array, the extreme neatness of our garments, and, 
above all, the extraordinary polish of the bright-work about 
the great guns, and the marvelous whiteness of the decks. 

“ Que gosto !” cried a Marquis, with several dry goods 
samples of ribbon, tallied with bright buttons, hanging from 
his breast. 

“ Que gloria !” cried a crooked, coffee-colored Viscount, 
spreading both palms. 

“ Que alegria !” cried a little Count, mincingly circumnavi- 
gating a shot-box. 

“ Que contentamento he o meu !” cried the Emperor him- 
self, complacently folding his royal arms, and serenely gazing 
along our ranks. 

Pleasure , Gloiy^said Joy — this was the burden of the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


281 


three noble courtiers. And very pleasing indeed — was the 
simple rendering of Don Pedro’s imperial remark. 

“ Ay, ay,” growled a grim rammer-and-sponger behind me ; 
“ it’s all devilish fine for you nobs to look at ; but what would 
you say if you had to holy-stone the deck yourselves, and wear 
out your elbows in polishing this cursed old iron, besides get- 
ting a dozen at the gangway, if you dropped a grease-spot on 
deck in your mess ? Ay, ay, devilish fine for you, but devilish 
dull for us !” 

In due time the drums beat the retreat, and the ship’s com- 
pany scattered over the decks. 

Some of the officers now assumed the part of cicerones, to 
show the distinguished strangers the bowels of the frigate, 
concerning which several of them showed a good deal of in- 
telligent curiosity. A guard of honor, detached from the 
marine corps, accompanied them, and they made the circuit 
of the berth-deck, where, at a judicious distance, the Emperor 
peeped down into the cable-tier, a very subterranean vault. 

The Captain of the Main-Hold, who there presided, made 
a polite bow in the twilight, and respectfully expressed a de- 
sire for His ftoyal Majesty to step down and honor him with 
a call ; but, with his handkerchief to his Imperial nose, his 
Majesty declined. The party then commenced the ascent to 
the spar-deck ; which, from so great a depth in a frigate, is 
something like getting up to the top of Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment from the basement. 

While a crowd of the people was gathered about the for- 
ward part of the booms, a sudden cry was heard from below ; 
a lieutenant came running forward to learn the cause, when 
an old sheet-anchor-man, standing by, after touching his hat, 
hitched up his waistbands, and replied, “ I don’t know, sir, 
but I’m thinking as how one o’ them ’ere kings has been tum- 
blin’ down the hatchway.” 

And something like this it turned out. In ascending one 
of the narrow ladders leading from the berth-deck to the gun- 
deck, the Most Noble Marquis of Silva, in the act of elevating 


282 


WHITE-JACKET. 


the Imperial coat-tails, so as to protect them from rubbing 1 
against the newly-painted combings of the hatchway, this No- 
ble Marquis’s sword, being an uncommonly long one, had 
caught between his legs, and tripped him head over heels 
down into the fore-passage. 

“ Onde ides ?” (where are you going ?) said his royal mas- 
ter, tranquilly peeping down toward the falling Marquis ; 
“ and what did you let go of my coat-tails for ?” he suddenly 
added, in a passion, glancing round at the same time, to see 
if they had suffered from the unfaithfulness of his train-bearer. 

“ Oh, Lord !” sighed the Captain of the Fore-top, “ who 
would be a Marquis of Silva ?” 

Upon being assisted to the spar-deck, the unfortunate Mar- 
quis was found to have escaped without serious harm ; but, 
from the marked coolness of his royal master, when the Mar- 
quis drew near to apologize for his awkwardness, it was plain 
that he was condemned to languish for a time under the roy- 
al displeasure. 

Shortly after, the Imperial party withdrew, under another 
grand national salute. 


CHAPTER LVIII. 


A QUARTER-DECK OFFICER BEFORE THE MAST. 

As we were somewhat short-handed while we lay in Rio, 
we received a small draft of men from a United States sloop 
of war, whose three years’ term of service would expire about 
the time of our arrival in America. 

Under guard of an armed Lieutenant and four midship- 
men, they came on hoard in the afternoon. They were imme- 
diately mustered in the starboard gangway, that Mr. Bride- 
well, our First Lieutenant, might take down their names, and 
assign them their stations. 

They stood in a mute and solemn row ; the officer advanced, 
with his memorandum-book and pencil. 

My casual friend, Shakings, the holder, happened to be by 
at the time. Touching my arm, he said, “ White- Jacket, 
this here reminds me of Sing-Sing, when a draft of fellows, in 
darbies, came on from the State Prison at Auburn for a 
change of scene like, you know !” 

After taking down four or five names, Mr. Bridewell ac- 
costed the next man, a rather good-looking person, but, from 
his haggard cheek and sunken eye, he seemed to have been in 
the sad habit, all his life, of sitting up rather late at night ; 
and though all sailors do certainly keep late hours enough — 
standing watches at midnight — yet there is no small differ- 
ence between keeping late hours at sea and keeping late hours 
ashore. 

“ What’s your name ?” asked the officer, of this rather rak- 
ish-looking recruit. 

“ Mandeville, sir,” said the man, courteously touching his 
cap. “ You must remember me, sir,” he added, in a low, con- 


284 


WHITE-JACKET. 


fidential tone, strangely dashed with servility ; “we sailed to- 
gether once in the old Macedonian, sir. I wore an epaulet 
then ; we had the same state-room, you know, sir. I’m your 
old chum, Mandeville, sir,” and he again touched his cap. 

“ I remember an officer by that name,” said the First Lieu- 
tenant, emphatically, “ and I know you , fellow. But I know 
you henceforth for a common sailor. I can show no favorit- 
ism here. If you ever violate the ship’s rules, you shall be 
flogged like any other seaman. I place you in the fore-top ; 
go forward to your duty.” 

It seemed this Mandeville had entered the Navy when very 
young, and had risen to be a lieutenant, as he said. But 
brandy had been his bane. One night, when he had the deck 
of a line-of-battle ship, in the Mediterranean, he was seized 
with a fit of mania-a-potu, and, being out of his senses for the 
tftne, went below and turned into his berth, leaving the deck 
without a commanding officer. For this unpardonable offence 
he was broken. 

Having no fortune, and no other profession than the sea, 
upon his disgrace he entered the merchant-service as a chief 
mate ; but his love of strong drink still pursuing him, he was 
again cashiered at sea, and degraded before the mast by the 
Captain. After this, in a state of intoxication, he re-entered 
the Navy at Pensacola as a common sailor. But all these 
lessons, so biting-bitter to learn, could not cure him of his sin. 
He had hardly been a week on board the Neversink, when he 
was found intoxicated with smuggled spirits. They lashed 
him to the gratings, and ignominiously scourged him under 
the eye of his old friend and comrade, the First Lieutenant. 

This took place while we lay in port, which reminds me 
of the circumstance, that when punishment is about to be in- 
flicted in harbor, all strangers are ordered ashore ; and the 
sentries at the side have it in strict charge to waive off all 
boats drawing near. 


CHAPTER LIX. 


A MAN-OF-WAR BUTTON DIVIDES TWO BROTHERS. 

The conduct of Mandeville, in claiming the acquaintance 
of the First Lieutenant under such disreputable circumstances, 
was strongly contrasted by the behavior of another person on 
board, placed for a time in a somewhat similar situation. 

Among the genteel youths of the after-guard was a lad of 
about sixteen, a very handsome young fellow, with starry 
eyes, curly hair of a golden color, and a bright, sunshiny com- 
plexion : he must have been the son of some goldsmith. He 
was one of the few sailors — not in the main-top — whom I 
used to single out for occasional conversation. After several 
friendly interviews he became quite frank, and communicated 
certain portions of his history. There is some charm in the 
sea, which induces most persons to be very communicative 
concerning themselves. 

We had lain in Rio but a day, when I observed that this 
lad — whom I shall here call Frank — wore an unwonted ex- 
pression of sadness, mixed with apprehension. I questioned 
him as to the cause, but he chose to conceal it. Not three 
days after, he abruptly accosted me on the gun-deck, where I 
happened to be taking a promenade. 

“ I can’t keep it to myself any more,” he said ; “I must 
have a confidant, or I shall go mad !” 

“ What is the matter ?” said I, in alarm. 

“ Matter enough — look at this !” and he handed me a torn 
half sheet of an old New York Herald, putting his finger upon 
a particular word in a particular paragraph. It was the an- 
nouncement of the sailing from the Brooklyn Navy-yard of a 
United States Store Ship, with provisions lor the squadron in 


286 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Rio. It was upon a particular name, in the list of officers 
and midshipmen, that Frank’s finger was placed. 

“That is my own brother,” said he ; “he must have got 
a reefer’s warrant since I left home. Now, White- Jacket, 
what’s to be done ? I have calculated that the Store Ship 
may be expected here every day ; my brother will then see 
me — he an officer and I a miserable sailor that any moment 
may be flogged at the gangway, before his very eyes. Heav- 
ens ! White- Jacket, what shall I do ? Would you run ? Do 
you think there is any chance to desert ? I won’t see him, 
by Heaven, with this sailor’s frock on, and he with the anchor 
button !” 

“ Why, Frank,” said I, “ I do not really see sufficient cause 
for this fit you are in. Your brother is an officer — very good ; 
and you are nothing but a sailor — but that is no disgrace. 
If he comes on board here, go up to him, and take him by the 
hand ; believe me, he will be glad enough to see you !” 

Frank started from his desponding attitude, and fixing his 
eyes full upon mine, with clasped hands exclaimed, “ White- 
Jacket, I have been from home nearly three years ; in that 
time I have never heard one word from my family, and, though 
God knows how I love them, yet I swear to you, that though 
my brother can tell me whether my sisters are still alive, yet, 
rather than accost him in this lined-frock , I would go ten 
centuries without hearing one syllable from home !” 

Amazed at his earnestness, and hardly able to account for 
it altogether, I stood silent a moment ; then said, “ Why, 
Frank, this midshipman is your own brother, you say ; now, 
do you really think that your own flesh and blood is going to 
give himself airs over you, simply because he sports large brass 
buttons on his coat ? Never believe it. If he does, he can 
be no brother, and ought to be hanged — that’s all !” 

“Don’t say that again,” said Frank, resentfully; “my 
brother is a noble-hearted fellow ; I love him as I do myself. 
You don’t understand me, White-Jacket ; don’t you see, that 
when my brother arrives, he must consort more or less with 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


287 


our chuckle-headed reefers on hoard here ? There’s that 
namby-pamby Miss Nancy of a white-face, Stribbles, who, the 
other day, when Mad Jack’s back was turned, ordered me to 
hand him the spy-glass, as if he were a Commodore. Do you 
suppose, now, I want my brother to see me a lackey aboard 
here ? By Heaven, it is enough to drive one distracted ! 
What’s to be done ?” he cried, fiercely. 

Much more passed between us, but all my philosophy was 
in vain, and at last Frank departed, his head hanging down 
in despondency. 

For several days after, whenever the quarter-master report- 
ed a sail entering the harbor, Frank was foremost in the rig- 
ging to observe it. At length, one afternoon, a vessel draw- 
ing near was reported to be the long-expected store ship. I 
looked round for Frank on the spar-deck, but he was nowhere 
to be seen. He must have been below, gazing out of a port- 
hole. The vessel was hailed from our poop, and came to an- 
chor within a biscuit’s toss of our batteries. 

That evening I heard that Frank had ineffectually endeav- 
ored to get removed from his place as an oarsman in the First- 
Cutter — a boat which, from its size, is generally employed with 
the launch in carrying ship-stores. When I thought that, 
the very next day, perhaps, this boat would be plying between 
the store ship and our frigate, I was at no loss to account for 
Frank’s attempts to get rid of his oar, and felt heartily grieved 
at their failure. 

Next morning the bugler called away the First-Cutter’s 
crew, and Frank entered the boat with his hat slouched over 
his eyes. Upon his return, I was all eagerness to learn what 
had happened, and, as the communication of his feelings was 
a grateful relief, he poured his whole story into my ear. 

It seemed that, with his comrades, he mounted the store 
ship’s side, and hurried forward to the forecastle. Then, 
turning anxiously toward the quarter-deck, he spied two mid- 
shipmen leaning against the bulwarks, conversing. One was 
the officer of his boat — was the other his brother ? No ; hp 


288 


W H 1 T E-J A C K E T. 


was too tall — too large. Thank Heaven ! it was not him. 
And perhaps his brother had not sailed from home, after all ; 
there might have been some mistake. But suddenly the 
strange midshipman laughed aloud, and that laugh Frank 
had heard a thousand times before. It was a free, hearty 
laugh — a brother’s laugh ; but it carried a pang to the heart 
of poor Frank. 

He was now ordered down to the main-deck to assist in re- 
moving the stores. The boat being loaded, he was ordered 
into her, when, looking toward the gangway, he perceived the 
two midshipmen lounging upon each side of it, so that no one 
could pass them without brushing their persons. But again 
pulling his hat over his eyes, Frank, darting between them, 
gained his oar. “ How my heart thumped,” he said, “when 
I actually felt him so near me ; but I wouldn’t look at him 
— no ! I’d have died first !” 

To Frank’s great relief, the store ship at last moved further 
up the bay, and it fortunately happened that he saw no more 
of his brother while in Rio ; and while there, he never in any 
way made himself known to him. 



CHAPTER LX. 


a man-of-war’s-man shot at. 

There was a seaman belonging to the fore-top— a mess- 
mate, though not a top-mate of mine, and no favorite of the 
Captain’s — who, for certain venial transgressions, had been 
prohibited from going ashore on liberty when the ship’s com- 
pany went. Enraged at the deprivation — for he had not 
touched earth in upward of a year — he, some nights after, 
lowered himself overboard, with the view of gaining a canoe, 
attached by a rope to a Dutch galiot some cables’-length dis- 
tant. In -this canoe he proposed paddling himself ashore. 
Not being a very expert swimmer, the commotion he made in 
the water attracted the ear of the sentry on that side of the 
ship, who, turning about in his walk, perceived the faint white 
spot where the fugitive was swimming in the frigate’s shad- 
ow. He hailed it ; but no reply. 

“ Give the word, or I fire !” 

Not a word was heard. 

The next instant there was a red flash, and, before it had 
completely ceased illuminating the night, the white spot was 
changed into crimson. Some of the officers, returning from a 
party at the Beach of the Flamingoes, happened to be draw- 
ing near the ship in one of her cutters. They saw the flash, 
and the bounding body it revealed. In a moment the top- 
man was dragged into the boat, a handkerchief was used for 
a tourniquet, and the wounded fugitive was soon on board the 
frigate, when, the surgeon being called, the necessary atten- 
tions were rendered. 

Now, it appeared, that at the moment the sentry fired, the 
top-man — in order to elude discovery, by manifesting the com- 

N 


290 


W H I T E-J A C K E T. 


pletest quietude — was floating on the water, straight and hori- 
zontal, as if reposing on a bed. As he was not far from the 
ship at the time, and the sentry was considerably elevated 
above him — pacing his platform, on a level with the upper 
part of the hammock-nettings — the ball struck with great 
force, with a downward obliquity, entering the right thigh just 
above the knee, and, penetrating some inches, glanced up- 
ward along the bone, burying itself somewhere, so that it 
could nol^be felt by outward manipulation. There was no 
dusky discoloration to mark its internal track, as in the case 
when a partly-spent ball — obliquely hitting — after entering 
the skin, courses on, just beneath the surface, without pene- 
trating further. Nor was there any mark on the opposite 
part of the thigh to denote its place, as when a ball forces it- 
self straight through a limb, and lodges, perhaps, close to the 
skin on the other side. Nothing was visible but a small, rag- 
ged puncture, bluish about the edges, as if the rough point of 
a tenpenny nail had been forced into the flesh, and withdrawn. 
It seemed almost impossible, that through so small an aper- 
ture, a musket-bullet could have penetrated. 

The extreme misery and general prostration of the man, 
caused by the great effusion of blood — though, strange to say, 
at first he said he felt no pain from the wound itself — induced 
the Surgeon, very reluctantly, to forego an immediate search 
for the ball, to extract it, as that would have involved the di- 
lating of the wound by the knife ; an operation which, at that 
juncture, would have been almost certainly attended with fa- 
tal results. A day or two, therefore, was permitted to pass, 
while simple dressings were applied. 

The Surgeons of the other American ships of war in harbor 
occasionally visited the Neversink, to examine the patient, 
and incidentally to listen to the expositions of our own Sur- 
geon, their senior in rank. But Cadwallader Cuticle, who, 
as yet, has been but incidentally alluded to, now deserves a 
chapter by himself. 


CHAPTER LXI. 


THE SURGEON OF THE FLEET. 

Cadwallader Cuticle, M.D., and Honorary Member of 
the most distinguished Colleges of Surgeons both in Europe 
and America, was our Surgeon of the Fleet. Nor was he at 
all blind to the dignity of his position ; to which, indeed, he 
was rendered peculiarly competent, if the reputation he en- 
joyed was deserved. He had the name of being the foremost 
Surgeon in the Navy, a gentleman of remarkable science, and 
a veteran practitioner. 

He was a small, withered man, nearly, perhaps quite, sixty 
years of age. His chest was shallow, his shoulders bent, his 
pantaloons hung round skeleton legs, and his face was singu- 
larly attenuated. In truth, the corporeal vitality of this man 
seemed, in a good degree, to have died out of him. He walked 
abroad, a curious patch- work of life and death, with a wig, 
one glass eye, and a set of false teeth, while his voice was 
husky and thick ; but his mind seemed undebilitated as in 
youth ; it shone out of his remaining eye with basilisk brill- 
iancy. 

Like most old physicians and surgeons who have seen much 
service, and have been promoted to high professional place for 
their scientific attainments, this Cuticle was an enthusiast in 
his calling. In private, he had once been heard to say, con- 
fidentially, that he would rather cut off a man’s arm than dis- 
member the wing of the most delicate pheasant. In particu- 
lar, the department of Morbid Anatomy was his peculiar love ; 
and in his state-room below he had a most unsightly collec- 
tion of Parisian casts, in plaster and wax, representing all 
imaginable malformations of the human members, both or- 


292 


YV HIT E-J A C K E T ; OK, 


game and induced by disease. Chief among these was a cast, 
often to be met with in the Anatomical Museums of Europe, 
and no doubt an unexaggerated copy of a genuine original ; 
it was the head of an elderly woman, with an aspect singu- 
larly gentle and meek, but at the same time wonderfully ex- 
pressive of a gnawing sorrow, never to be relieved. You 
would almost have thought it the face of some abbess, for 
some unspeakable crime voluntarily sequestered from human 
society, and leading a life of agonized penitence without hope ; 
so marvelously sad and tearfully pitiable was this head. But 
when you first beheld it, no such emotions ever crossed your 
mind. All your eyes and all your horrified soul were fast fas- 
cinated and frozen by the sight of a hideous, crumpled horn, like 
that of a ram, downward growing out from the forehead, and 
partly shadowing the face ; but as you gazed, the freezing fas- 
cination of its horribleness gradually waned, and then your 
whole heart burst with sorrow, as you contemplated those aged 
features, ashy pale and wan. The horn seemed the mark of 
a curse for some mysterious sin, conceived and committed be- 
fore the spirit had entered the flesh. Yet that sin seemed 
something imposed, and not voluntarily sought ; some sin 
growing out of the heartless necessities of the predestination 
of things ; some sin under which the sinner sank in sinless 
woe. 

But no pang of pain, not the slightest touch of concern, 
ever crossed the bosom of Cuticle when he looked on this cast. 
It was immovably fixed to a bracket, against the partition of 
his state-room, so that it was the first object that greeted his 
eyes when he opened them from his nightly sleep. Nor was 
it to hide the face, that upon retiring, he always hung his 
Navy cap upon the upward curling extremity of the hom, for 
that obscured it but little. 

The Surgeon’s cot-boy, the lad who made up his swinging 
bed and took care of his room, often told us of the horror he 
sometimes felt when he would find himself alone in his mas- 
ter’s retreat. At times he was seized with the idea that Cuti- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


293 


cle was a preternatural being ; and once entering his room in 
the middle watch of the night, he started at finding it envel- 
oped in a thick, bluish vapor, and stifling with the odors of 
brimstone. Upon hearing a low groan from the smoke, with 
a wild cry he darted from the place, and, rousing the occu- 
pants of the neighboring state-rooms, it was found that the 
vapor proceeded from smoldering bunches of Lucifer matches, 
which had become ignited through the carelessness of the Sur- 
geon. Cuticle, almost dead, was dragged from the suffocating 
atmosphere, and it was several days ere he completely recover- 
ed from its effects. This accident took place immediately over 
the powder magazine ; but as Cuticle, during his sickness, 
paid dearly enough for transgressing the laws prohibiting com- 
bustibles in the gun-room, the Captain contented himself with 
privately remonstrating with him. 

Well knowing the enthusiasm of the Surgeon for all speci- 
mens of morbid anatomy, some of the ward-room officers used 
to play upon his credulity, though, in every case, Cuticle was 
not long in discovering their deceptions. Once, when they 
had some sago pudding for dinner, and Cuticle chanced to be 
ashore, they made up a neat parcel of this bluish-white, firm, 
jelly-like preparation, and placing it in a tin box, carefully 
sealed with wax, they deposited it on the gun-room table, 
with a note, purporting to come from an eminent physician 
in Rio, connected with the Grand National Museum on the 
Praca d’Acclamacao, begging leave to present the scientific 
Senhor Cuticle — with the donor’s compliments — an uncom- 
monly fine specimen of a cancer. 

Descending to the ward-room, Cuticle spied the note, and 
no sooner read it, than, clutching the case, he opened it, and 
exclaimed, “ Beautiful ! splendid ! I have never seen a finer 
specimen of this most interesting disease.” 

“ What have you there, Surgeon Cuticle ?” said a Lieu- 
tenant, advancing. 

“Why, sir, look at it ; did you ever see any thing more 
exquisite ?” 


294 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


“ Very exquisite indeed ; let me have a hit of it, will you. 
Cuticle ?” 

“ Let you have a hit of it !” shrieked the Surgeon, starting 
back. “ Let you have one of my limbs ! I wouldn’t mar so 
large a specimen for a hundred dollars ; hut what can you 
want of it ? You are not making collections !” 

“ I’m fond of the article,” said the Lieutenant ; “ it’s a fine 
cold relish to bacon or ham. You know, I was in New Zea- 
land last cruise, Cuticle, and got into sad dissipation there 
among the cannibals; come, let’s have a bit, if it’s only a 
mouthful.” 

“ Why, you infernal Feejee !” shouted Cuticle, eyeing the 
other with a confounded expression ; “ you don’t really mean 
to eat a piece of this cancer ?” 

“ Hand it to me, and see whether I will not,” was the reply. 

“ In God’s name, take it !” cried the Surgeon, putting the 
case into his hands, and then standing with his own uplifted. 

“ Steward !” cried the Lieutenant, “ the castor — quick ! 
I always use plenty of pepper with this dish, Surgeon ; it’s 
oystery. Ah ! this is really, delicious,” he added, smacking 
his lips over a mouthful. “ Try it now, Surgeon, and you’ll 
never keep such a fine dish as this, lying uneaten on your 
hands, as a mere scientific curiosity.” 

Cuticle’s whole countenance changed ; and, slowly walking 
up to the table, he put his nose close to the tin case, then 
touched its contents with his finger and tasted it. Enough. 
Buttoning up his coat, in all the tremblings of an old man’s 
rage he burst from the ward-room, and, calling for a boat, was 
not seen again for twenty-four hours. 

But though, like all other mortals, Cuticle was subject at 
times to these fits of passion — at least under outrageous prov- 
ocation — nothing could exceed his coolness when actually 
employed in his imminent vocation. Surrounded by moans 
and shrieks, by features distorted with anguish inflicted by 
himself, he yet maintained a countenance almost supernatu- 
rally calm ; and unless the intense interest of the operation 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


295 


flushed his wail face with a momentary tinge of professional 
enthusiasm, he toiled away, untouched by the keenest misery 
coming under a fleet-surgeon’s eye. Indeed, long habituation 
to the dissecting-room and the amputation-table had made 
him seemingly impervious to the ordinary emotions of human- 
ity. Yet you could not say that Cuticle was essentially a 
cruel-hearted man. His apparent heartlessness must have 
been of a purely scientific origin. It is not to be imagined 
even that Cuticle would have harmed a fly, unless he could 
procure a microscope powerful enough to assist him in experi- 
menting on the minute vitals of the creature. 

But notwithstanding his marvelous indifference to the suf- 
ferings of his patients, and spite even of his enthusiasm in his 
vocation — not cooled by frosting old age itself — Cuticle, on 
some occasions, would affect a certain disrelish of his profes- 
sion, and declaim against the necessity that forced a man of 
his humanity to perform a surgical operation. Especially 
was it apt to be thus with him, when the case was one of 
more than ordinary interest. In discussing it, previous to 
setting about it, he would vail his eagerness under an aspect 
of great circumspection, curiously marred, however, by con- 
tinual sallies of unsuppressible impatience. But the knife 
once in his hand, the compassionless surgeon himself, undis- 
guised, stood before you. Such was Cadwallader Cuticle, 
our Surgeon of the Fleet. 


CHAPTER LXII. 


A CONSULTATION OF MAN-OF-WAR SURGEONS. 

It seems customary for the Surgeon of the Fleet, when any 
important operation in his department is on the anvil, and 
there is nothing to absorb professional attention from it, to 
invite his brother surgeons, if at hand at the time, to a cere- 
monious consultation upon it. And this, in courtesy, his 
brother surgeons expect. 

In pursuance of this custom, then, the surgeons of the 
neighboring American ships of war were requested to visit 
the Neversink in a body, to advise concerning the case of the 
top-man, whose situation had now become critical. They 
assembled on the half-deck, and were soon joined by their 
respected senior, Cuticle. In a body they bowed as he ap- 
proached, and accosted him with deferential regard. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Cuticle, unostentatiously seating him- 
self on a camp-stool, handed him by his cot-boy, “ we have 
here an extremely interesting case. You have all seen the 
patient, I believe. At first I had hopes that I should have 
been able to cut down to the ball, and remove it ; but the 
state of the patient forbade. Since then, the inflammation 
and sloughing of the part has been attended with a copious 
suppuration, great loss of substance, extreme debility and 
emaciation. From this, I am convinced that the ball has 
shattered and deadened the bone, and now lies impacted in 
the medullary canal. In fact, there can be no doubt that 
the wound is incurable, and that amputation is the only re- 
source. But, gentlemen, I find myself placed in a very deli 
cate predicament. I assure you I feel no professional anxiety 
to perform the operation. I desire your advice, and if you 


THE WOULD IN A MAN-OF-WAR, 


297 


will now again visit the patient with me, we can then re- 
turn here, and decide what is best to he done. Once more, 
let me say, that I feel no personal anxiety whatever to use 
the knife.” 

The assembled surgeons listened to this address with the 
most serious attention, and, in accordance with their supe- 
rior’s desire, now descended to the sick-bay, where the patient 
was languishing. * The examination concluded, they returned 
to the half-deck, and the consultation was renewed. 

“ Gentlemen,” began Cuticle, again seating himself, “ you 
have now just inspected the limb ; you have seen that there 
is no resource but amputation ; and now, gentlemen, what do 
you say ? Surgeon Bandage, of the Mohawk, will you ex- 
press your opinion ?” 

“ The wound is a very serious one,” said Bandage — a cor- 
pulent man, with a high German forehead — shaking his head 
solemnly. 

“ Can any thing save him but amputation ?” demanded 
Cuticle. 

“His constitutional debility is extreme,” observed Band- 
age, “ but I have seen more dangerous cases.” 

“ Surgeon Wedge, of the Malay,” said Cuticle, in a pet, 
“ be pleased to give your opinion ; and let it be definitive, 1 en- 
treat this was said with a severe glance toward Bandage. 

“ If I thought,” began Wedge, a very spare, tall man, ele- 
vating himself still higher on his toes, “ that the ball had 
shattered and divided the whole femur , including the Greater 
and Lesser Trochanter , the Linear aspera , the Digital fossa, 
and the Intertrochanteric, I should certainly be in favor of 
amputation ; but that, sir, permit me to observe, is not my 
opinion.” 

“ Surgeon Sawyer, of the Buccaneer,” said Cuticle, draw- 
ing in his thin lower lip with vexation, and turning to a round- 
faced, florid, frank, sensible-looking man, whose uniform coat 
very handsomely fitted him, and was adorned with an unusual 
quantity of gold lace ; “ Surgeon Sawyer, of the Buccaneer, 

N* 


298 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


let us now hear your opinion, if you please. Is not amputa- 
tion the only resource, sir ?” 

“ Excuse me,” said Sawyer, “ I am decidedly opposed to it ; 
for if hitherto the patient has not been strong enough to un- 
dergo the extraction of the ball, I do not see how he can he 
expected to endure a far more severe operation. As there is 
no immediate danger of mortification, and you say the ball 
can not be reached without making large incisions, I should 
support him, I think, for the present, with tonics, and gentle 
antiphlogistics, locally applied. On no account would I pro- 
ceed to amputation until further symptoms are exhibited.” 

“ Surgeon Patella, of the Algerine,” said Cuticle, in an ill- 
suppressed passion, abruptly turning round on the person ad- 
dressed, “ will you have the kindness to say whether you do 
not think that amputation is the only resource ?” 

Now Patella was the youngest of the company, a modest 
man, filled with a profound reverence for the science of Cuti- 
cle, and desirous of gaining his good opinion, yet not wishing 
to commit himself altogether by a decided reply, though, like 
Surgeon Sawyer, in his own mind he might have been clear- 
ly against the operation. 

“What you have remarked, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet,” 
said Patella, respectfully hemming, “ concerning the danger- 
ous condition of the limb, seems obvious enough ; amputation 
would certainly be a cure to the wound ; but then, as, not- 
withstanding his present debility, the patient seems to have a 
strong constitution, he might rally as it is, and by your scien- 
tific treatment, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet” — bowing — “ be en- 
tirely made whole, without risking an amputation. Still, it 
is a very critical case, and amputation may be indispensable , 
and if it is to be performed, there ought to be no delay what- 
ever. That is my view of the case, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet,” 

“ Surgeon Patella, then, gentlemen,” said Cuticle, turning 
round triumphantly, “ is clearly of opinion that amputation 
should be immediately performed. For my own part — indi- 
vidually, I mean, and without respect to the patient — I am 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


299 


sony to have it so decided. But this settles the question, 
gentlemen — in my own mind, however, it was settled before. 
At ten o’clock to-morrow morning the operation will he per- 
formed. I shall he happy to see you all on the occasion, and 
also your juniors” (alluding to the absent Assistant Surgeons). 
“ Good-morning, gentlemen ; at ten o’clock, remember.” 

And Cuticle retreated to the Ward-room. 


CHAPTER LXIII. 


THE OPERATION. 

Next morning, at the appointed hour, the surgeons arrived 
in a body. They were accompanied by their juniors, young 
men ranging in age from nineteen years to thirty. Like the 
senior surgeons, these young gentlemen were arrayed in their 
blue navy uniforms, displaying a profusion of bright buttons, 
and several broad bars of gold lace about the wristbands. As 
in honor of the occasion, they had put on their best coats ; 
they looked exceedingly brilliant. 

The whole party immediately descended to the half-deck, 
where preparations had been made for the operation. A large 
garrison-ensign was stretched across the ship by the main- 
mast, so as completely to screen the space behind. This space 
included the whole extent aft to the bulk-head of the Commo- 
dore’s cabin, at the door of which the marine-orderly paced, 
in plain sight, cutlass in hand. 

Upon two gun-carriages, dragged amidships, the Death- 
board (used for burials at sea) was horizontally placed, cov- 
ered with an old royal-stun’-sail. Upon this occasion, to do 
duty as an amputation-table, it was widened by an addition- 
al plank. Two match-tubs, near by, placed one upon anoth- 
er, at either end supported another plank, distinct from the 
table, whereon was exhibited an array of saws and knives of 
various and peculiar shapes and sizes ; also, a sort of steel, 
something like the dinner-table implement, together with long 
needles, crooked at the end for taking up the arteries, and 
large darning-needles, thread and bee’s-wax, for sewing up a 
wound. 

At the end nearest the larger table was a tin basin of wa- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


301 


ter, surrounded by small sponges, placed at mathematical in- 
tervals. From the long horizontal pole of a great-gun ram- 
mer — fixed in its usual place overhead — hung a number of 
towels, with “ U. S.” marked in the comers. 

All these arrangements had been made by the “ Surgeon’s 
steward,” a person whose important functions in a man-of- 
war will, in a future chapter, be entered upon at large. Upon 
the present occasion, he was bustling about, adjusting and re- 
adjusting the knives, needles, and carver, like an over-consci- 
entious butler fidgeting over a dinner-table just before the con- 
vivialists enter. 

But by far the most striking object to be seen behind the 
ensign was a human skeleton, whose eveiy joint articulated 
with wires. By a rivet at the apex of the skull, it hung dang- 
ling from a hammock-hook fixed in a beam above. Why this 
object was here, will presently be seen ; but why it was placed 
immediately at the foot of the amputation-table, only Surgeon 
Cuticle can tell. 

While the final preparations were being made, Cuticle stood 
conversing with the assembled Surgeons and Assistant Sur- 
geons, his invited guests. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he, taking up one of the glittering 
knives and artistically drawing the steel across it ; “ Gentle- 
men, though these scenes are very unpleasant, and in some 
moods, I may say, repulsive to me — yet how much better for 
our patient to have the contusions and lacerations of his pres- 
ent wound — with all its dangerous symptoms — converted into 
a clean incision, free from these objections, and occasioning so 
much less subsequent anxiety to himself and the Surgeon. 
Yes,” he added, tenderly feeling the edge of his knife, “ am- 
putation is our only resource. Is it not so, Surgeon Patella ?” 
turning toward that gentleman, as if relying upon some sort 
of an assent, however clogged with conditions. 

“ Certainly,” said Patella, “ amputation is your only re- 
source, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet ; that is, I mean, if you are 
fully persuaded of its necessity.” 


302 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


The other surgeons said nothing, maintaining a somewhat 
reserved air, as if conscious that they had no positive author 
ity in the case, whatever might he their own private opin 
ions ; hut they seemed willing to behold, and, if called upon, 
to assist at the operation, since it could not now be averted. 

The young men, their Assistants, looked very eager, and 
cast frequent glances of awe upon so distinguished a practi- 
tioner as the venerable Cuticle. 

“ They say he can drop a leg in one minute and ten sec- 
onds from the moment the knife touches it,” whispered one 
of them to another. 

“ We shall see,” was the reply, and the speaker clapped 
his hand to his fob, to see if his watch would be forthcoming 
when wanted. 

“ Are you all ready here ?” demanded Cuticle, now ad- 
vancing to his steward ; “ have not those fellows got through 
yet ?” pointing to three men of the carpenter’s gang, who 
were placing bits of wood under the gun-carriages supporting 
the central table. 

“ They are just through, sir,” respectfully answered the 
Steward, touching his hand to his forehead, as if there were 
a cap-front there. 

“ Bring up the patient, then,” said Cuticle. 

“ Young gentlemen,” he added, turning to the row of As- 
sistant Surgeons, “ seeing you here reminds me of the classes 
of students once under my instruction at the Philadelphia Col- 
lege of Physicians and Surgeons. Ah, those were happy 
days !” he sighed, applying the extreme corner of his handker- 
chief to his glass eye. “ Excuse an old man’s emotions, young 
gentlemen ; but when I think of the numerous rare cases that 
then came under my treatment, I can not but give way to my 
feelings. The town, the city, the metropolis, young gentle- 
men, is the place for you students ; at least in these dull times 
of peace, when the army and navy furnish no inducements for 
a youth ambitious of rising in our honorable profession. Take 
an old man’s advice, and if the war now threatening between 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


303 


the States and Mexico should break out, exchange your Navy 
commissions for commissions in the army. From having no 
military marine herself, Mexico has always been backward in 
furnishing subjects for the amputation-tables of foreign navies. 
The cause of science has languished in her hands. The army, 
young gentlemen, is your best school ; depend upon it. You 
will hardly believe it, Surgeon Bandage,” turning to that 
gentleman, “ but this is my first important case of surgery in 
a nearly three years’ cruise. I have been almost wholly con- 
fined in this ship to doctor’s practice — prescribing for fevers 
and fluxes. True, the other day a man fell from the mizzen- 
top-sail yard ; but that was merely an aggravated case of dis- 
locations and bones splintered and broken. No one, sir, could 
have made an amputation of it, without severely contusing his 
conscience. And mine — I may say it, gentlemen, without 
ostentation — is peculiarly susceptible ” 

And so saying, the knife and carver touchingly dropped to 
his sides, and he stood for a moment fixed in a tender reverie. 
But a commotion being heard beyond the curtain, he started, 
and, briskly crossing and recrossing the knife and carver, ex- 
claimed, “ Ah, here comes our patient ; surgeons, this side of 
the table, if you please ; young gentlemen, a little further off, 
I beg. Steward, take off my coat — so ; my neckerchief now ; 
I must be perfectly unencumbered, Surgeon Patella, or I can 
do nothing whatever.” 

These articles being removed, he snatched off his wig, plac- 
ing it on the gun-deck capstan ; then took out his set of false 
teeth, and placed it by the side of the wig ; and, lastly, put- 
ting his forefinger to the inner angle of his blind eye, spirted 
out the glass optic with professional dexterity, and deposited 
that, also, next to the wig and false teeth. 

Thus divested of nearly all inorganic appurtenances, what 
was left of the Surgeon slightly shook itself, to see whether 
any thing more could be spared to advantage. 

“ Carpenter’s mates,” he now cried, “ will you never get 
through with that job ?” 


304 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


“ Almost through, sir — -just through,” they replied, staring 
round in search of the strange, unearthly voice that addressed 
them ; for the absence of his teeth had not at all improved 
the conversational tones of the Surgeon of the Fleet. 

With natural curiosity, these men had purposely been lin- 
gering, to see all they could ; but now, having no further ex- 
cuse, they snatched up their hammers and chisels, and — like 
the stage-builders decamping from a public meeting at the 
eleventh hour, after just completing the rostrum in time for 
the first speaker — the Carpenter’s gang withdrew. 

The broad ensign now lifted, revealing a glimpse of the 
crowd of man-of-war’s-men outside, and the patient, borne in 
the arms of two of his mess-mates, entered the place. He 
was much emaciated, weak as an infant, and every limb visi- 
bly trembled, or rather jarred, like the head of a man with 
the palsy. As if an organic and involuntary apprehension of 
death had seized the wounded leg, its nervous motions were 
so violent that one of the mess-mates was obliged to keep his 
hand upon it. 

The top-man was immediately stretched upon the table, 
the attendants steadying his limbs, when, slowly opening his 
eyes, he glanced about at the glittering knives and saws, the 
towels and sponges, the armed sentry at the Commodore’s 
cabin-door, the row of eager-eyed students, the meagre death’s- 
head of a Cuticle, now with his shirt sleeves rolled up upon 
his withered arms and knife in hand, and, finally, his eye set- 
tled in horror upon the skeleton, slowly vibrating and jingling 
before him, with the slow, slight roll of the frigate in the water. 

“ I would advise perfect repose of your every limb, my 
man,” said Cuticle, addressing him ; ,i‘ the precision of an 
operation is often impaired by the inconsiderate restlessness of 
the patient. But if you consider, my good fellow,” he added, 
in a patronizing and almost sympathetic tone, and slightly 
pressing his hand on the limb, “ if you consider how much 
better it is to live with three limbs than to die with four, and 
especially if you but knew to what torments both sailors and 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


305 


soldiers were subjected before the time of Celsus, owing to the 
lamentable ignorance of surgeiy then prevailing, you would 
certainly thank God from the bottom of your heart that your 
operation has been postponed to the period of this enlightened 
age, blessed with a Bell, a Brodie, and a Lally. My man, 
before Celsus’ s time, such was the general ignorance of our 
noble science, that, in order to prevent the excessive effusion 
of blood, it was deemed indispensable to operate with a red- 
hot knife” — making a professional movement toward the thigh 
— “ and pour scalding oil upon the parts” — elevating his el- 
bow, as if with a tea-pot in his hand — “ still further to sear 
them, after amputation had been performed.” 

“ He is fainting !” said one of his mess-mates ; “ quick ! 
some water !” The steward immediately hurried to the top- 
man with the basin. 

Cuticle took the top-man by the wrist, and feeling it a 
while, observed, “ Don’t be alarmed, men,” addressing the 
two mess-mates ; “ he’ll recover presently ; this fainting very 
generally takes place.” And he stood for a moment, tran- 
quilly eying ‘the patient. 

Now the Surgeon of the Fleet and the top-man presented 
a spectacle which, to a reflecting mind, was better than a 
church-yard sermon on the mortality of man. 

Here was a sailor, who, four days previous, had stood erect 
— a pillar of life — with an arm like a royal-mast and a thigh 
like a windlass. But the slightest conceivable finger-touch 
of a bit of crooked trigger had eventuated in stretching him 
out, more helpless than an hour-old babe, with a blasted 
thigh, utterly drained of its brawn. And who was it that 
now stood over him like a superior being, and, as if clothed 
himself with the attributes of immortality, indifferently dis- 
coursed of carving up his broken flesh, and thus piecing out 
his abbreviated days ? Who was it, that in capacity of Sur- 
geon, seemed enacting the part of a Regenerator of life ? The 
withered, shrunken, one-eyed, toothless, hairless Cuticle ; with 
a trunk half dead — a memento mori to behold ! 


306 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


And while, in those soul-sinking and panic-striking premo- 
nitions of speedy death which almost invariably accompany 
a severe gun-shot wound, even with the most intrepid spirits ; 
while thus drooping and dying, this once robust top-man’s eye 
was now waning in his head like a Lapland moon being 
eclipsed in clouds — Cuticle, who for years had still lived in 
his withered tabernacle of a body — Cuticle, no doubt sharing 
in the common self-delusion of old age — Cuticle must have 
felt his hold of life as secure as the grim hug of a grizzly bear. 
Verily, Life is more awful than Death ; and let no man, 
though his live heart beat in him like a cannon — let him not 
hug his life to himself ; for, in the predestinated necessities of 
things, that bounding life of his is not a whit more secure 
than the life of a man on his death-bed. To-day we inhale 
the air with expanding lungs, and life runs through us like a 
thousand Niles ; but to-morrow we may collapse in death, 
and all our veins be dry as the Brook Kedron in a drought. 

“ And now, young gentlemen,” said Cuticle, turning to the 
Assistant Surgeons, “ while the patient is coming to, permit 
me to describe to you the highly-interesting operation I am 
about to perform.” 

“ Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet,” said Surgeon Bandage, “ if 
you are about to lecture, permit me to present you with your 
teeth ; they will make your discourse more readily under- 
stood.” And so saying, Bandage, with a bow, placed the two 
semicircles of ivory into Cuticle’s hands. 

“ Thank you, Surgeon Bandage,” said Cuticle, and slipped 
the ivory into its place. 

“ In the first place, now, young gentlemen, let me direct 
your attention to the excellent preparation before you. I 
have had it unpacked from its case, and set up here from my 
state-room, where it occupies the spare berth ; and all this for 
your express benefit, young gentlemen. This skeleton I pro- 
cured in person from the Hunterian department of the Boyal 
College of Surgeons in London. It is a master-piece of art. 
But we have no time to examine it now. Delicacy forbids 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


307 


that I should amplify at a juncture like this” — casting an al- 
most benignant glance toward the patient, now beginning to 
open his eyes ; “ but let me point out to you upon this thigh- 
bone” — disengaging it from the skeleton, with a gentle twist 
— “ the precise place where I propose to perform the opera- 
tion. Here , young gentlemen, here is the place. You per- 
ceive it is very near the point of articulation with the trunk.” 

“Yes,” interposed Surgeon Wedge, rising on his toes, “ yes, 
young gentlemen, the point of articulation with the acetabu- 
lum of the os innominatum 

“ Where’s your ‘ Bell on Bones,’ Dick ?” whispered one of 
the assistants to the student next him. “ Wedge has been 
spending the whole morning over it, getting out the hard 
names.” 

“ Surgeon Wedge,” said Cuticle, looking round severely, 
“ we will dispense with your commentaries, if you please, at 
present. Now, young gentlemen, you can not but perceive, 
that the point of operation being so near the trunk and the 
vitals, it becomes an unusually beautiful one, demanding a 
steady hand and a true eye ; and, after all, the patient may 
die under my hands.” 

“ Quick, Steward ! water, water ; he’s fainting again !” 
cried the two mess-mates. 

“Don’t be alarmed for your comrade, men,” said Cuticle, 
turning round. “ I tell you it is not an uncommon thing for 
the patient to betray some emotion upon these occasions — 
most usually manifested by swooning ; it is quite natural it 
should be so. But we must not delay the operation. Stew- 
ard, that knife — no, the next one — there, that’s it. He is 
coming to, I think” — feeling the top-man’s wrist. “ Are you 
all ready, sir ?” 

This last observation was addressed to one of the Never- 
sink’s assistant surgeons, a tall, lank, cadaverous young man, 
arrayed in a sort of shroud of white canvass, pinned about 
his throat, and completely enveloping his person. He was 
seated on a match-tub — the skeleton swinging near his head 


308 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


— at the foot of the table, in readiness to grasp the limb, as 
when a plank is being severed by a carpenter and his ap- 
prentice. 

“The sponges, Steward,” said Cuticle, for the last time 
taking out his teeth, and drawing up his shirt sleeve still 
further. Then, taking the patient by the wrist, “ Stand by, 
now, you mess-mates ; keep hold of his arms ; pin him down. 
Steward, put your hand on the artery ; I shall commence as 
soon as his pulse begins to — now, now!” Letting fall the 
wrist, feeling the thigh carefully, and bowing over it an in- 
stant, he drew the fatal knife unerringly across the flesh. As 
it first touched the part, the row of surgeons simultaneously 
dropped their eyes to the watches in their hands, while the 
patient lay, with eyes horribly distended, in a kind of waking 
trance. Not a breath was heard ; hut as the quivering flesh 
parted in a long, lingering gash, a spring of blood welled up 
between the living walls of the wound, and two thick streams, 
in opposite directions, coursed down the thigh. The sponges 
were instantly dipped in the purple pool ; every face present 
was pinched to a point with suspense ; the limb writhed ; 
the man shrieked ; his mess-mates pinioned him ; while round 
and round the leg went the unpitying cut. 

“ The saw !” said Cuticle. 

Instantly it was in his hand. 

Full of the operation, he was about to apply it, when, 
looking up, and turning to the assistant surgeons, he said, 
“ Would any of you young gentlemen like to apply the saw ? 
A splendid subject !” 

Several volunteered ; when, selecting one, Cuticle surren- 
dered the instrument to him, saying, “ Don’t be hurried, now ; 
be steady.” 

While the rest of the assistants looked upon their comrade 
with glances of envy, he went rather timidly to work ; and 
Cuticle, who was earnestly regarding him, suddenly snatched 
the saw from his hand. “ Away, butcher ! you disgrace the 
profession. Look at me!” 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


309 


For a few moments the thrilling, rasping sound was heard ; 
and then the top-man seemed parted in twain at the hip, as 
the leg slowly slid into the arms of the pale, gaunt man in 
the shroud, who at once made away with it, and tucked it 
out of sight under one of the guns. 

“ Surgeon Sawyer,” now said Cuticle, courteously turning 
to the surgeon of the Mohawk, “ would you like to take up 
the arteries ? They are quite at your service, sir.” 

“ Do, Sawyer ; be prevailed upon,” said Surgeon Bandage. 

Sawyer complied ; and while, with some modesty, he was 
conducting the operation, Cuticle, turning to the row of assist- 
ants, said, “ Young gentlemen, we will now proceed with our 
illustration. Hand me that bone, Steward.” And taking 
the thigh-bone in his still bloody hands, and holding it con- 
spicuously before his auditors, the Surgeon of the Fleet began : 

“ Young gentlemen, you will perceive that precisely at 
this spot — here — to which I previously directed your atten- 
tion — at the corresponding spot precisely — the operation has 
been performed. About here, young gentlemen, here ” — lift- 
ing his hand some inches from the bone — “ about here the 
great artery was. But you noticed that I did not use the 
tourniquet ; I never do. The forefinger of my steward is 
far better than a tourniquet, being so much more managea- 
ble, and leaving the smaller veins uncompressed. But I 
have been told, young gentlemen, that a certain Seignior 
Seignioroni, a surgeon of Seville, has recently invented an 
admirable substitute for the clumsy, old-fashioned tourniquet. 
As I understand it, it is something like a pair of calipers , 
working with a small Archimedes screw — a very clever in- 
vention, according to all accounts. For the padded points at 
the end of the arches” — arching his forefinger and thumb — 
“ can be so worked as to approximate in such a way, as to — 
but you don’t attend to me, young gentlemen,” he added, all 
at once starting. 

Being more interested in the active proceedings of Surgeon 
Sawyer., who was now threading a needle to sew up the over- 


310 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


lapping of the stump, the young gentlemen had not scrupled 
to turn away their attention altogether from the lecturer. 

A few moments more, and the top-man, in a swoon, was 
removed below into the sick-bay. As the curtain settled 
again after the patient had disappeared, Cuticle, still holding 
the thigh-bone of the skeleton in his ensanguined hands, pro- 
ceeded with his remarks upon it ; and having concluded them, 
added, “ Now, young gentlemen, not the least interesting con- 
sequence of this operation will be the finding of the hall, which, 
in case of non- amputation, might have long eluded the most 
careful search. That hall, young gentlemen, must have taken 
a most circuitous route. Nor, in cases where the direction is 
oblique, is this at all unusual. Indeed, the learned Hennei 
gives us a most remarkable — I had almost said an incredible 
— case of a soldier’s neck, where the bullet, entering at the 
part called Adam’s Apple — ” 

“ Yes,” said Surgeon Wedge, elevating himself, “ the po- 
mum Adami .” 

“ Entering the point called Adam's, Apple ,” continued 
Cuticle, severely emphasizing the last two words, “ ran com- 
pletely round the neck, and, emerging at the same hole it had 
entered, shot the next man in the ranks. It was afterward 
extracted, says Henner, from the second man, and pieces of 
the other’s skin were found adhering to it. But examples of 
foreign substances being received into the body with a ball, 
young gentlemen, are frequently observed. Being attached 
to a United States ship at the time, I happened to be near 
the spot of the battle of Ayacucho, in Peru. The day after 
the action, I saw in the barracks of the wounded a trooper, 
who, having been severely injured in the brain, went crazy, 
and, with his own holster-pistol, committed suicide in the hos- 
pital. The ball drove inward a portion of his woolen night- 
cap — ” 

“ In the form of a cul-de-sac , doubtless,” said the undaunt- 
ed Wedge. 

“ For once, Surgeon Wedge, you use the only J;erm that 


311 


t 

THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


can be employed ; and let me avail myself of this opportunity 
to say to you, young gentlemen, that a man of true science” 
— expanding his shallow chest a little — “uses but few hard 
words, and those only when none other will answer his pur- 
pose ; whereas the smatterer in science” — slightly glancing 
toward Wedge — “thinks, that by mouthing hard words, he 
proves that he understands hard things. Let this sink deep 
in your minds, young gentlemen ; and, Surgeon Wedge” — 
with a stiff bow — “ permit me to submit the reflection to 
yourself. Well, young gentlemen, the bullet was afterward 
extracted by pulling upon the external parts of the cul-de-sac 
— a simple, but exceedingly beautiful operation. There is a 
fine example, somewhat similar, related in Guthrie ; but, of 
course, you must have met with it, in so well-known a work 
as his Treatise upon Gun-shot Wounds. When, upward of 
twenty years ago, I was with Lord Cochrane, then Admiral 
of the fleets of this very country” — pointing shoreward, out 
of a port-hole — “ a sailor of the vessel to which I was attach- 
ed, during the blockade of Bahia, had his leg — ” But by 
this time the fidgets had completely taken possession of his 
auditors, especially of the senior surgeons ; and turning upon 
them abruptly, he added, “But I will not detain you longer, 
gentlemen” — turning round upon all the surgeons — “your 
dinners must be waiting you on board your respective ships. 
But, Surgeon Sawyer, perhaps you may desire to wash your 
hands before you go. There is the basin, sir ; you will find 
a clean towel on the rammer. For myself, I seldom use 
them” — taking out his handkerchief. “ I must leave you 
now, gentlemen” — bowing. “ To-morrow, at ten, the limb 
will be upon the table, and I shall be happy to see you all upon 
the occasion. Who’s there ?” turning to the curtain, which 
then rustled. 

“Please, sir,” said the Steward, entering, "the patient is 
dead.” 

“ The body also, gentlemen, at ten precisely,” said Cuticle, 
once more turning round upon his guests. "I predicted that 


312 


WHITE-JACKET. 


the operation might prove fatal ; he was very much run down. 
Good-morning;” and Cuticle departed. 

“ He does not, surely, mean to touch the body ?” exclaimed 
Surgeon Sawyer, with much excitement. 

“Oh, no !” said Patella, “that’s only his way; he means, 
doubtless, that it may be inspected previous to being taken 
ashore for burial.” 

The assemblage of gold-laced surgeons now ascended to the 
quarter-deck ; the second cutter was called away by the bugler, 
and, one by one, they were dropped aboard of their respective 
ships. 

The following evening the mess-mates of the top-man row- 
ed his remains ashore, and buried them in the ever-vernal 
Protestant cemetery, hard by the Beach of the Flamingoes, in 
plain sight from the bay. 


CHAPTER LXIV. 

MAN-OF-WAR TROPHIES. 

When the second cutter pulled about among the ships, 
dropping the surgeons aboard the American men-of-war here 
and there — as a pilot-boat distributes her pilots at the mouth 
of the harbor — she passed several foreign frigates, two of which, 
an Englishman and a Frenchman, had excited not a little re- 
mark on board the Neversink. These vessels often loosed 
their sails and exercised yards simultaneously with ourselves, 
as if desirous of comparing the respective efficiency of the 
crews. 

When we were nearly ready for sea, the English frigate, 
weighing her anchor, made all sail with the sea-breeze, and 
began showing off her paces by gliding about among all the 
men-of-war in harbor, and particularly by running down un- 
der the Neversink’s stern. Every time she drew near, we 
complimented her by lowering our ensign a little, and invari- 
ably she courteously returned the salute. She was inviting 
us to a sailing-match ; and it was rumored that, when we 
should leave the bay, our Captain would have no objections 
to gratify her ; for, be it known, the Neversink was accounted 
the fleetest keeled craft sailing under the American long-pen- 
nant. Perhaps this was the reason why the stranger chal- 
lenged us. 

It may have been that a portion of our crew were the 
more anxious to race with this frigate, from a little circum- 
stance which a few of them deemed rather galling. Not 
many cables’-bngth distant from our Commodore’s cabin lay 
the frigate President, with the red cross of St. George flying 
from her peak. As its name imported, this fine craft was an 

O 


314 


YV H I T E-J ACKE T ; O K, 


American born ; but having been captured during the last 
war with Britain, she now sailed the salt seas as a trophy. 

Think of it, my gallant countrymen, one and all, down the 
sea-coast and along the endless banks of the Ohio and Colum- 
bia — think of the twinges we sea-patriots must have felt to 
behold the live-oak of the Floridas and the pines of green 
Maine built into the oaken walls of Old England ! But, to 
some of the sailors, there was a counterbalancing thought, as 
grateful as the other was galling, and that was, that some- 
where, sailing under the stars and stripes, was the frigate 
Macedonian, a British-born craft which had once sported the 
battle-banner of Britain. 

It has ever been the custom to spend almost any amount 
of money in repairing a captured vessel, in order that she may 
long survive to commemorate the heroism of the conqueror, 
'thus, in the English Navy, there are many Monsievirs of sev- 
enty-fours won from the Gaul. But we Americans can show 
but few similar trophies, though, no doubt, we would much 
like to be >ble so to do. 

But I never have beheld any of these floating trophies 
without being reminded of a scene once witnessed in a pioneer 
village on the western bank of the Mississippi. Not far from 
this village, where the stumps of aboriginal trees yet stand in 
the market-place, some years ago lived a portion of the rem- 
nant tribes of the Sioux Indians, who frequently visited the 
white settlements to purchase trinkets and cloths. 

One florid crimson evening in July, when the red-hot sun 
was going down in a blaze, and I was leaning against a cor- 
ner in my huntsman’s frock, lo ! there came stalking out of the 
crimson West a gigantic red-man, erect as a pine, with his 
glittering tomahawk, big as a broad-ax, folded in martial re- 
pose across his chest. Moodily wrapped in his blanket, and 
striding like a king on the stage, he promenaded up and down 
the rustic streets, exhibiting on the back of his blanket a crowd 
of human hands, rudely delineated in red ; one of them seemed 
recently drawn. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


315 


“ Who is this warrior ?” asked I ; “ and why marches he 
here ? and for what are these bloody hands ?” 

“ That warrior is the Red-Hot Coal” said a pioneer in 
moccasins, by my side. “ He marches here to show off his 
last trophy ; every one of those hands attests a foe scalped by 
his tomahawk ; and he has just emerged from Ben Brown’s, 
the painter, who has sketched the last red hand that you see ; 
for last night this Red-Hot Coal outhurned the Yellow Torch , 
the chief of a hand of the Foxes.” 

Poor savage ! thought I ; and is this the cause of your lofty 
gait ? Do you straighten yourself to think that you have 
committed a murder, when a chance-falling stone has often 
done the same ? Is it a proud thing to topple down six feet 
perpendicular of immortal manhood, though that lofty living 
tower needed perhaps thirty good growing summers to bring 
it to maturity ? Poor savage ! And you account it so glori- 
ous, do you, to mutilate and destroy what God himself was 
more than a quarter of a 'century in building ? 

And yet, fellow-Christians, what is the American frigate 
Macedonian, or the English frigate President, but as two 
bloody red hands painted on this poor savage’s blanket ? 

Are there no Moravians in the Moon, that not a missionary 
has yet visited this poor pagan planet of ours, to civilize civil- 
ization and christianize Christendom ? 


CHAPTER LXV. 


A MAN-OF-WAR RACE. 

We lay in Rio so long — for what reason the Commodore 
only knows — that a saying went abroad among the impatient 
sailors that our frigate would at last ground on the beef-bones 
daily thrown overboard by the cooks. 

But at last the good tidings came. “ All hands up anchor, 
ahoy !” And bright and early in the morning up came our 
old iron, as the sun rose in the East. 

The land-breeze at Rio — by which alone vessels may emerge 
from the bay — is ever languid and faint. It comes from gar- 
dens of citrons and cloves, spiced with all the spices of the 
Tropic of Capricorn. And, like that old exquisite, Moham- 
med, who so much loved to snuff perfumes and essences, and 
used to lounge out of the conservatories of Khadija, his wife, 
to give battle to the robust sons of Koriesh ; even so this Rio 
land-breeze comes jaded with sweet-smelling savors, to wres- 
tle with the wild Tartar breezes of the sea. 

Slowly we dropped and dropped down the bay, glided like 
a stately swan through the outlet, and were gradually rolled by 
the smooth, sliding billows broad out upon the deep. Straight 
in our wake came the tall main-mast of the English fighting- 
frigate, terminating, like a steepled cathedral, in the bannered 
cross of the religion of peace ; and straight after her came the 
rainbow banner of France, sporting God’s token that no more 
would he make war on the earth. 

Both Englishman and Frenchman were resolved on a race ; 
and we Yankees swore by our top-sails and royals to sink 
their blazing banners that night among the Southern constel- 
lations we should daily be extinguishing behind us in our run 
to the North. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


317 


“Ay,” said Mad Jack, “St. George’s banner shall be as 
the Southern Cross , out of sight, leagues down the horizon, 
while our gallant stars, my brave boys, shall burn all alone 
in the North, like the Great Bear at the Pole ! Come on, 
Rainbow and Cross !” 

But the wind was long languid and faint, not yet recovered 
from its night’s dissipation ashore, and noon advanced, with 
the Sugar-Loaf pinnacle in sight. 

Now it is not with ships as with horses ; for though, if a 
horse walk well and fast, it generally furnishes good token that 
he is not had at a gallop, yet the ship that in a light breeze 
is outstripped, may sweep the stakes, so soon as a t’-gallant 
breeze enables her to strike into a canter. Thus fared it with 
us. First, the Englishman glided ahead, and bluffly passed 
on ; then the Frenchman politely bade us adieu, while the 
old Neversink lingered behind, railing at the effeminate breeze. 
At one time, all three frigates were irregularly abreast, form- 
ing a diagonal line ; and so near were all three, that the state- 
ly officers on the poops stiffly saluted hy touching their caps, 
though refraining from any further civilities. At this juncture, 
it was a noble sight to behold those fine frigates, with dripping 
breast-hooks, all rearing and nodding in concert, and to look 
through their tall spars and wilderness of rigging, that seemed 
like inextricably-entangled, gigantic cobwebs against the sky. 

Toward sundown the ocean pawed its white hoofs to the 
spur of its helter-skelter rider, a strong blast from the East- 
ward, and, giving three cheers from decks, yards, and tops, 
we crowded all sail on St. George and St. Denis. 

But it is harder to overtake than outstrip ; night fell upon 
us, still in the rear — still where the little boat was, which, at 
the eleventh hour, according to a Rabbinical tradition, pushed 
after the ark of old Noah. 

It was a misty, cloudy night ; and though at first our look- 
outs kept the chase in dim sight, yet at last so thick became 
the atmosphere, that no sign of a strange spar was to be seen. 
But the worst of it was, that, when last discerned, the French- 


318 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


man was broad on our weather-bow, and the Englishman gal- 
lantly leading his van. 

The breeze blew fresher and fresher ; but, with even our 
main-royal set, we dashed along through a cream-colored 
ocean of illuminated foam. White- Jacket was then in the 
top ; and it was glorious to look down and see our black hull 
butting the white sea with its broad bows like a ram. 

“We must beat them with such a breeze, dear Jack,” said 
[ to our noble Captain of the Top. 

“ But the same breeze blows for John Bull, remember,” re- 
plied Jack, who, being a Briton, perhaps favored the English- 
man more than the Neversink. 

“ But how we boom through the billows !” cried Jack, gaz- 
ing over the top-rail ; then, flinging forth his arm, recited, 
u ‘ Aslope, and gliding on the leeward side, 

The bounding vessel cuts the roaring tide. 

Camoens ! White- Jacket, Camoens ! Did you ever read 
him ? The Lusiad, I mean ? It’s the man-of-war epic of the 
world, my lad. Give me Gama for a Commodore, say I — 
Noble Gama ! And Mickle, White- Jacket, did you ever read 
of him? William Julius Mickle ? Camoens’s Translator ? A 
disappointed man though, White- Jacket. Besides his version 
of the Lusiad, he wrote many forgotten things. Did you ever 
see his ballad of Cumnor Hall ? — No ? — Why, it gave Sir 
W alter Scott the hint of Kenilworth. My father knew Mickle 
when he went to sea on board the old Romney man-of-war. 
How many great men have been sailors, White- Jacket ! They 
say Homer himself was once a tar, even as his hero, Ulysses, 
was both a sailor and a shipwright. I’ll swear Shakspeare 
was once a captain of the forecastle. Do you mind the first 
scene in The Tempest , White- Jacket ? And the world-find- 
er, Christopher Columbus, was a sailor ! and so was Camo- 
ens, who went to sea with Gama, else we had never had the 
Lusiad, White- Jacket. Yes, I’ve sailed over the very track 
that Cpmoens sailed — round the East Cape into the Indian 
Ocean. I’ve been in Don Jose’s garden, too, in Macao, and 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


319 


bathed my feet in the blessed dew of the walks where Camo- 
ens wandered before me. Yes, White- Jacket, and I have 
seen and sat in the cave at the end .of the flowery, winding 
way, where Camoens, according to tradition, composed cer- 
tain parts of his Lusiad. Ay, Camoens was a sailor once ! 
Then, there’s Falconer, whose * Shipwreck’ will never found- 
er, though he himself, poor fellow, was lost at sea in the Au- 
rora frigate. Old Noah was the first sailor. And St. Paul, 
too, knew how to box the compass, my lad ! mind you that 
chapter in Acts ? I couldn’t spin the yarn better myself. 
Were you ever in Malta ? They called it Mehta in the 
Apostle’s day. I have been in Paul’s cave there, White- 
Jacket. They say a piece of it is good for a charm against 
shipwreck ; but I never tried it. There’s Shelly, he was 
quite a sailor. Shelly — poor lad ! a Percy, too — but they 
ought to have let him sleep in his sailor’s grave — he was 
drowned in the Mediterranean, you know, near Leghorn — 
and not burn his body, as they did, as if he had been a bloody 
Turk. But many people thought him so, White- Jacket, be- 
cause he didn’t go to mass, and because he wrote Queen Mab. 
Trelwarney was by at the burning ; and he was an ocean- 
rover, too ! Ay, and Byron helped put a piece of a keel on the 
fire ; for it was made of bits of a wreck, they say ; one wreck 
burning another ! And was not Byron a sailor ? an amateur 
forecastle-man, White- Jacket ! so he was ; else how bid the 
ocean heave and fall in that grand, majestic way ? I say, 
White- Jacket, d’ye mind me ? there never was a very great 
man yet who spent all his life inland. A snuff of the sea, 
my boy, is inspiration ; and having been once out of sight of 
land, has been the making of many a true poet and the blast- 
ing of many pretenders ; for, d’ye see, there’s no gammon 
about the ocean ; it knocks the false keel right off a pretend- 
er’s bows ; it tells him just what he is, and makes him feel 
it, too. A sailor’s life, I say, is the thing to bring us mortals 
out. What does the blessed Bible say ? Don’t it say that 
we main-top-men alone see the marvelous sights and wonders ? 


320 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Don’t deny the blessed Bible, now ! don’t do it ! How it 
rocks up here, my boy !” bolding on to a shroud ; “ but it only 
proves what I’ve been saying — the sea is the place to cradle 
genius ! Heave and fall, old sea !” 

“ And you, also, noble Jack,” said I, “ what are you but a 
sailor ?” 

“ You’re merry, my boy,” said Jack, looking up with a 
glance like that of a sentimental archangel doomed to drag 
out his eternity in disgrace. “ But mind you, White-Jacket, 
there are many great men in the world besides Commodores 
and Captains. I’ve that here, White- Jacket” — touching his 
forehead — “ which, under happier skies — perhaps in yon soli- 
tary star there, peeping down from those clouds — might have 
made a Homer of me. But Fate is Fate, White- Jacket ; 
and we Homers who happen to be captains of tops must 
write our odes in our hearts, and publish them in our heads. 
But look ! the Captain’s on the poop.” 

It was now midnight ; but all the officers were on deck. 

“ Jib-boom, there !” cried the Lieutenant of the Watch, 
going forward and hailing the headmost look-out “ D’ye see 
any thing of those fellows now ?” 

“ See nothing, sir.” 

“ See nothing, sir,” said the Lieutenant, approaching the 
Captain, and touching his cap. 

“ Call all hands !” roared the Captain. “ This keel sha’n’t 
be beat while I stride it.” 

All hands were called, and the hammocks stowed in the 
nettings for the rest of the night, so that no one could lie be- 
tween blankets. 

Now, in order to explain the means adopted by the Cap- 
tain to insure us the race, it needs to be said of the Never- 
sink, that, for some years after being launched, she was 
accounted one of the slowest vessels in the American Navy. 
But it chanced upon a time, that, being on a cruise in the 
Mediterranean, she happened to sail out of Port Mahon in 
what was then supposed to be very bad trim for the sea. 

o* 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


321 


Her bows were rooting in. the water, and her stem kicking 
up its heels in the air. But, wonderful to tell, it was soon 
discovered that in this comical posture she sailed like a shoot- 
ing-star ; she outstripped every vessel on the station. Thence- 
forward all her Captains, on all cruises, trimmed her by the 
head ; and the Neversink gained the name of a clipper. 

To return. All hands being called, they were now made 
use of by Captain Claret as make-weights, to trim the ship, 
scientifically, to her most approved bearings. Some were 
sent forward on the spar-deck, with twenty-four-pound shot 
in their hands, and were judiciously scattered about here 
and there, with strict orders not to budge an inch from their 
stations, for fear of marring the Captain’s plans. Others 
were distributed along the gun and berth decks, with similar 
orders ; and, to crown all, several carronade guns were un- 
shipped from their carriages, and swung in their breechings 
from the beams of the main-deck, so as to impart a sort of 
vibratory briskness and oscillating buoyancy to the frigate. 

And thus we five hundred make-weights stood out that 
whole night, some of us exposed to a drenching rain, in order 
that the Neversink might not be beaten. But the comfort 
and consolation of all make-weights is as dust in the balance 
in the estimation of the rulers of our man-of-war world. 

The long, anxious night at last came to an end, and, with 
the first peep of day, the look-out on the jib-boom was hailed ; 
but nothing was in sight. At last it was broad day ; yet still 
not a bow was to be seen in our rear, nor a stern in our van. 

“ Where are they ?” cried the Captain. 

“ Out of sight, astern, to be sure, sir,” said the officer of 
the deck. 

“Out of sight, ahead , to be sure, sir,” muttered Jack 
Chase, in the top. 

Precisely thus stood the question : whether we beat them, 
or whether they beat us, no mortal can tell to this hour, since 
we never saw them again ; but for one, White- J acket will 
lay his two hands on the bow-chasers of the Neversink, and 
take his ship’s oath that we Yankees carried the day. 


CHAPTER LXVI. 


FUN IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

After the race (our man-of-war Derby) we had many days 
fine weather, during which we continued running before the 
Trades toward the north. Exhilarated by the thought of be- 
ing homeward-bound, many of the seamen became joyous, and 
the discipline of the ship, if any thing, became a little relax- 
ed. Many pastimes served to while away the Dog- Watches 
in particular. These Dog- Watches (embracing two hours in 
the early part of the evening) form the only authorized play- 
time for the crews of most ships at sea. 

Among other diversions at present licensed by authority in 
the Neversink, were those of single-stick, sparring, hammer- 
and-anvil, and head-bumping. All these were under the di- 
rect patronage of the Captain, otherwise — seeing the conse- 
quences they sometimes led to — they would undoubtedly have 
been strictly prohibited. It is a curious coincidence, that 
when a navy captain does not happen to be an admirer of the 
Fistiana, his crew seldom amuse themselves in that way. 

Single-stick, as every one knows, is a delightful pastime, 
which consists in two men standing a few feet apart, and rap- 
ping each other over the head with long poles. There is a 
good deal of fun in it, so long as you are not hit ; but a hit — 
in the judgment of discreet persons — spoils the sport complete- 
ly. When this pastime is practiced by connoisseurs ashore, 
they wear heavy, wired helmets, to break the force of the 
blows. But the only helmets of our tars were those with 
which nature had furnished them. They played with great 
gun-rammers. 

Sparring consists in playing single-stick with bone poles 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


323 


instead of wooden ones. Two men stand apart, and pommel 
each other with their fists (a hard bunch of knuckles perma- 
nently attached to the arms, and made globular, or extended 
into a palm, at the pleasure of th.£ proprietor), till one of them, 
finding himself sufficiently thrashed, cries enough. 

Hammer-and-anvil is thus practiced by amateurs : Patient 
No. 1 gets on all-fours, and stays so ; while patient No. 2 is 
taken up by his arms and legs, and his base is swung against 
the base of patient No. 1, till patient No. 1, with the force of 
the final blow, is sent flying along the deck. 

Head-bumping , as patronized by Captain Claret, consists 
in two negroes (whites will not answer) butting at each other 
like rams. This pastime was an especial favorite with the 
Captain. In the Dog-Watches, Rose-Water and May-Day 
were repeatedly summoned into the lee waist to tilt at each 
other, for the benefit of the Captain’s health. 

May-Day was a full-blooded “ bull-negro ,” so the sailors 
called him, with a skull like an iron tea-kettle, wherefore May- 
Day much fancied the sport. But Rose-Water, he was a 
slender and rather handsome mulatto, and abhorred the pas- 
time. Nevertheless, the Captain must be obeyed ; so at the 
word poor Rose-Water was fain to put himself in a posture 
of defence, else May-Day would incontinently have bumped 
him out of a port-hole into the sea. I used to pity poor Rose- 
Water from the bottom of my heart. But my pity was al- 
most aroused into indignation at a sad sequel to one of these 
gladiatorial scenes. 

It seems that, lifted up by the unaffected, though verbally 
unexpressed applause of the Captain, May-Day had begun to 
despise Rose-Water as a poltroon — a fellow all brains and no 
skull ; whereas he himself was a great warrior, all skull and 
no brains. 

Accordingly, after they had been bumping one evening to 
the Captain’s content, May-Day confidentially told Rose-Wa- 
ter that he considered him a “nigger” which, among some 
blacks, is held a great term of reproach. Fired at the insult, 


Rose-Water gave May-Day to understand that he utterly er- 
red ; for his mother, a black slave, had been one of the mis- 
tresses of a Virginia planter belonging to one of the oldest 
families in that state. Another insulting remark followed this 
innocent disclosure ; retort followed retort ; in a word, at last 
they came together in mortal combat. 

The master- at- arms caught them in the act, and brought 
them up to the mast. The Captain advanced. 

“Please, sir,” said poor Rose-Water, “it all came of dat 
’ar humping ; May-Day, here, aggrawated me ’bout it.” 

“ Master-at-arms,” said the Captain, “ did you see them 
fighting ?” 

“ Ay, sir,” said the master-at-arms, touching his cap. 

“ Rig the gratings,” said the Captain. “ I’ll teach you two 
men that, though I now and then permit you to play , I will 
have no fighting. Do your duty, boatswain’s mate !” And 
the negroes were flogged. 

Justice commands that the fact of the- Captain’s not show- 
ing any leniency to May-Day — a decided favorite of his, at 
least while in the ring — should not be passed over. He flog- 
ged both culprits in the most impartial manner. 

As in the matter of the scene at the gangway, shortly after 
the Cape Horn theatricals, when my attention had been di- 
rected to the fact that the officers had shipped their quarter- 
deck, faces — upon that occasion, I say, it was seen with what 
facility a sea-officer assumes his wonted severity of demeanor 
after a casual relaxation of it. This was especially the case 
with Captain Claret upon the present occasion. For any 
landsman to have beheld him in the lee waist, of a pleasant 
Dog-Watch, with a genial, good-humored countenance, observ- 
ing the gladiators in the ring, and now and then indulging in 
a playful remark — that landsman would have deemed Cap- 
tain Claret the indulgent father of his crew, perhaps permit- 
ting the excess of his kind-heartedness to encroach upon the 
appropriate dignity of his station. He would have deemed 
Captain Claret a fine illustration of those two well-known 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


325 


poetical comparisons between a sea-captain and a father, and 
between a sea-captain and the master of apprentices, insti- 
tuted by those eminent maritime jurists, the noble Lords Ten- 
terden and Stowell. 

But surely, if there is any thing hateful, it is this shipping 
of the quarter-deck face after wearing a merry and good-na- 
tured one. How can they have the heart ? Methinks, if bat 
once I smiled upon a man — never mind how much beneath 
me — I could not bring myself to condemn him to the shock- 
ing misery of the lash. Oh officers ! all round the world, if 
this quarter-deck face you wear at all, then never unship it 
for another, to be merely sported for a moment. Of all in- 
sults, the temporary condescension of a master to a slave is 
the most outrageous and galling. That potentate who most 
condescends, mark him well ; for that potentate, if occasion 
come, will prove your uttermost tyrant. 


CHAPTER LXVII. 


WHITE-JACKET ARRAIGNED AT THE MAST. 

When with five Jiund red others I made one of the com- 
pelled spectators at the scourging of poor Rose-Water, I little 
thought what Fate had ordained for myself the next day. 

Poor mulatto ! thought I, one of an oppressed race, they 
degrade you like a hound. Thank God ! I am a white. Yet 
I had seen whites also scourged ; for, black or white, all my 
shipmates were liable to that. Still, there is something in 
us, somehow, that, in the most degraded condition, we snatch 
at a chance to deceive ourselves into a fancied superiority to 
others, whom we suppose lower in the scale than ourselves. 

Poor Rose-Water ! thought I ; poor mulatto ! Heaven send 
you a release from your humiliation ! 

To make plain the thing about to be related, it needs to 
repeat what has somewhere been previously mentioned, that 
in tacking ship every seaman in a man-of-war has a particu- 
lar station assigned him. What that station is, should be 
made known to him by the First Lieutenant ; and when the 
word is passed to tack or wear, it is every seaman’s duty to be 
found at his post. But among the various numbers and sta- 
tions given to me by the senior Lieutenant, when I first came 
on board the frigate, he had altogether omitted informing me 
of my particular place at those times, and, up to the precise 
period now written of, I had hardly known that I should have 
had any special place then at all. For the rest of the men, 
they seemed to me to catch hold of the first rope that offered, 
as in a merchantman upon similar occasions. Indeed, I sub- 
sequently discovered, that such was the state of discipline — 
in this one particular, at least — that very few of the seamen 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


327 


could tell where their proper stations were, at tacking or 
wearing. 

“ All hands tack ship, ahoy !” such was the announcement 
made by the boatswain’s mates at the hatchways the morning 
after the hard fate of Rose-Water. It was just eight bells — 
noon, and springing from my white jacket, which I had spread 
between the guns for a bed on the main-deck, I ran up the 
ladders, and, as usual, seized hold of the main-brace, which 
fifty hands were streaming along forward. When main-top- 
sail haul! was given through the trumpet, I pulled at this 
brace with such heartiness and good-will, that I almost flat- 
tered myself that my instrumentality in getting the frigate 
round on the other tack, deserved a public vote of thanks, and 
a silver tankard from. Congress. 

But something happened to be in the way aloft when the 
yards swung round ; a little confusion ensued ; and, with an- 
ger on his brow, Captain Claret came forward to see what 
occasioned it. No one to let go the weather-lift of the main- 
yard ! The rope was cast off, howevpr, by a hand, and the 
yards, unobstructed, came round. 

When the last rope was coiled away, the Captain desired 
to know of the First Lieutenant who it might be that was 
stationed at the weather (then the starboard) main-lift. With 
a vexed expression of countenance the First Lieutenant sent 
a midshipman for the Station Bill, when, upon glancing it 
over, my ow T n name was found put down at the post in ques- 
tion. 

At the time I was on the gun-deck below, and did not 
know of these proceedings ; but a moment after, I heard the 
boatswain’s mates bawling my name at all the hatchways, 
and along all three decks. It was the first time I had ever 
heard it so sent through the furthest recesses of the ship, and 
well knowing what this generally betokened to other seamen, 
my heart jumped to my throat, and I hurriedly asked Flute, 
the boatswain’s-mate at the fore-hatchway, what was wanted 
of me. 


328 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


“ Captain wants ye at the mast,” he replied. “ Going to 
flog ye, I guess.” 

“What for?” 

“ My eyes ! you’ve been chalking your face, hain’t ye ?” 

“ What am I wanted for ?” I repeated. 

But at that instant my name was again thundered forth by 
the other boatswain’s mate, and Flute hurried me away, hint- 
ing that I would soon find out what the Captain desired of me. 

I swallowed down my heart in me as I touched the spar- 
deck, for a single instant balanced myself on my best centre, 
and then, wholly ignorant of what was going to he alleged 
against me, advanced to the dread tribunal of the frigate. 

As I passed through the gangway, I saw the quarter-mas- 
ter rigging the gratings ; the boatswain with his green bag 
of scourges ; the master-at-arms ready to help off some one’s 
shirt. 

Again I made a desperate swallow of my whole soul in me, 
and found myself standing before Captain Claret. His flushed 
face obviously showed him in ill humor. Among the group 
of officers by his side was the First Lieutenant, who, as I 
came aft, eyed me in such a manner, that I plainly perceived 
him to he extremely vexed at me for having been the inno- 
cent means of reflecting upon the manner in which he kept up 
the discipline of the ship. 

“ Why were you not at your station, sir ?” asked the Cap- 
tain. 

“ What station do you mean, sir ?” said I. 

It is generally the custom with man-of-war’ s-men to stand 
obsequiously touching their hat at every sentence they ad- 
dress to the Captain. But as this was not obligatory upon 
me by the Articles of War, I did not do so upon the present 
occasion, and previously, I had never had the dangerous honor 
of a personal interview with Captain Claret. 

He quickly noticed my omission of the homage usually ren- 
dered him, and instinct told me, that to a certain extent, it 
set his heart against me. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


329 


“ What station, sir, do you mean ?” said I. 

“You pretend ignorance,” he replied ; “it will not help 
you, sir.” 

Glancing at the Captain, the First Lieutenant now pro- 
duced the Station Bill, and read my name in connection with 
that of the starboard main-lift. 

“ Captain Claret,” said I, “ it is the first time I ever heard 
of my being assigned to that post.” 

“How is this, Mr. Bridewell?” he said, turning to the 
First Lieutenant, with a fault-finding expression. 

“It is impossible, sir,” said that officer, striving to hide his 
vexation, “ but this man must have known his station.” 

“ I have never known it before this moment, Captain Clar- 
et,” said I. 

“ Do you contradict my officer ?” he returned. “ I shall 
flog you.” 

I had now been on board the frigate upward of a year, and 
remained unscourged ; the ship was homeward-bound, and in 
a few weeks, at most, I would be a freeman. And now, after 
making a hermit of myself in some things, in order to avoid 
the possibility of the scourge, here it was hanging over me for 
a thing utterly unforeseen, for a crime ofwdiich I was as utterly 
innocent. But all that was as naught. I saw that my case 
was hopeless ; my solemn disclaimer was thrown in my teeth, 
and the boatswain’s mate stood curling his fingers through 
the cat. 

There are times when wild thoughts enter a man’s heart, 
when he seems almost irresponsible for his act and his deed. 
The Captain stood on the weather-side of the deck. Sideways, 
on an unobstructed line with him, was the opening of the lee- 
gangway, where the side-ladders are suspended in port. Noth- 
ing but a slight bit of sinuate-stuff served to rail in this open- 
ing, which was cut right down to the level of the Captain’s 
feet, showing the far sea beyond. I stood a little to wind- 
ward of him, and, though he was a large, powerful man, it 
was certain that a sudden rush against him, along the slant- 


330 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ing deck, would infallibly pitch him headforemost into the 
ocean, though he who so rushed must needs go over with him. 
My blood seemed clotting in my veins ; I felt icy cold at the 
tips of my fingers, and a dimness was before my eyes. But 
through that dimness the boatswain’s mate, scourge in hand, 
loomed like a giant, and Captain Claret, and the blue sea seen 
through the opening at the gangway, showed with an awful 
vividness. I can not analyze my heart, though it then stood 
still within me. But the thing that swayed me to my pur- 
pose was not altogether the thought that Captain Claret was 
about to degrade me, and that I had taken an oath with my 
soul that he should not. No, I felt my man’s manhood so 
bottomless within me, that no word, no blow, no scourge of 
Captain Claret could cut me deep enough for that. I but 
swung to an instinct in me — the instinct diffused through all 
animated nature, the same that prompts even a worm to turn 
under the heel. Locking souls with him, I meant to drag 
Captain Claret from this earthly tribunal of his to that of 
Jehovah, and let Him decide between us. No other way could 
I escape the scourge. 

Nature has not implanted any power in man that was not 
meant to be exercised at times, though too often our powers 
have been abused. The privilege, inborn and inalienable, that 
•jvery man has, of dying himself, and inflicting death upon an- 
other, was not given to us without a purpose. These are the 
last resources of an insulted and unendurable existence. 

“To the gratings, sir!” said Captain Claret; “do you 
hear ?” 

My eye was measuring the distance between him and the 
sea. 

“ Captain Claret,” said a voice advancing from the crowd. 
I turned to see who this might he, that audaciously inter- 
posed at a juncture like this. It was the same remarkably 
handsome and gentlemanly corporal of marines, Colbrook, who 
has been previously alluded to, in the chapter describing kill- 
ing time in a man-of-war. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


331 


“ I know that man,” said Colbrook, touching his cap, and 
speaking in a mild, firm, hut extremely deferential manner ; 
“ and I know that he would not be found absent from his sta- 
tion, if he knew where it was.” 

This speech was almost unprecedented. Seldom or never 
before had a marine dared to speak to the Captain of a frig- 
ate in behalf of a seaman at the mast. But there was some- 
thing so unostentatiously commanding in the calm manner of 
the man, that the Captain, though astounded, did not in any 
way reprimand him. The very unusualness of his interfer- 
ence seemed Colbrook’s protection. 

Taking heart, perhaps, from Colbrook’s example, Jack Chase 
interposed, and in a manly but carefully respectful manner, in 
substance repeated the corporal’s remark, adding that he had 
never found me wanting in the top. 

Captain Claret looked from Chase to Colbrook, and from 
Colbrook to Chase — one the foremost man among the seamen, 
the other the foremost man among the soldiers — then all round 
upon the packed and silent crew, and, as if a slave to Fate, 
though supreme Captain of a frigate, he turned to the First 
Lieutenant, made some indifferent remark, and saying to me 
you may go , sauntered aft into his cabin ; while I, who, in 
the desperation of my soul, had but just escaped being a mur- 
derer and a suicide, almost burst into tears of thanksgiving 
where I stood. 


CHAPTER LXVIII. 


A MAN-OF-WAR FOUNTAIN, AND OTHER THINGS. 

Let us forget the scourge and the gangway a while, and jot 
down in our memories a few little things pertaining to our 
man-of-war world. I let nothing slip, however small ; and 
feel myself actuated by the same motive which has prompted 
many worthy old chroniclers, to set down the merest trifles 
concerning things that are destined to pass away entirely from 
the earth, and which, if not preserved in the nick of time, 
must infallibly perish from the memories of man. Who knows 
that this humble narrative may not hereafter prove the history 
of an obsolete barbarism ? Who knows that, when men-of-war 
shall he no more, “ White- Jacket” may not he quoted to show 
to the people in the Millennium what a man-of-war was ? God 
hasten the time ! Lo ! ye years, escort it hither, and bless 
our eyes ere we die. 

There is no part of a frigate where you will see more going 
and coming of strangers, and overhear more greetings and 
gossipings of acquaintances, than in the immediate vicinity of 
the scuttle-butt, just forward of the main-hatchway, on the 
gun-deck. 

The scuttle-butt is a goodly, round, painted cask, standing 
on end, and with its upper head removed, showing a narrow, 
circular shelf within, where rest a number of tin cups for the 
accommodation of drinkers. Central, within the scuttle-butt 
itself, stands an iron pump, which, connecting with the im- 
mense water-tanks in the hold, furnishes an unfailing supply 
of the much-admired Pale Ale, first brewed in the brooks of 
the Garden of Eden, and stamped with the brand of our old 
father Adam, who never knew what wine was. We are in- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


333 


debted to the old vintner Noah for that. The scuttle-butt is 
the only fountain in the ship ; and here alone can you drink, 
unless at your meals. Night and day an armed sentry paces 
before it, bayonet in hand, to see that no water is taken away, 
except according to law. I wonder that they station no sen- 
tries at the port-holes, to see that no air is breathed, except 
according to Navy regulations. 

As five hundred men come to drink at this scuttle-butt ; as 
it is often surrounded by officer’s servants drawing water for 
their masters to wash ; by the cooks of the range, who hither 
come to fill their coffee-pots ; and by the cooks of the ship’s 
messes to procure water for their duffs ; the scuttle-butt may 
be denominated the town-pump of the ship. And would that 
my fine countryman, Hawthorn of Salem, had but served on 
board a man-of-war in his time, that he might give us the 
reading of a “ rill” from the scuttle-butt. 

# # * * # 

As in all extensive establishments — abbeys, arsenals, col- 
leges, treasuries, metropolitan post-offices, and monasteries — 
there are many snug little niches, wherein are ensconced cer- 
tain superannuated old pensioner officials ; and, more especial- 
ly, as in most ecclesiastical establishments, a few choice preb- 
endary stalls are to be found, furnished with well-filled man- 
gers and racks ; so, in a man-of-war, there are a variety of 
similar snuggeries for the benefit of decrepit or rheumatic old 
tars. Chief among these is the office of mast-man. 

There is a stout rail on deck, at the base of each mast, 
where a number of braces , lifts , and buntlines are belayed to 
the pins. It is the sole duty of the mast-man to see that 
these ropes are always kept clear, to preserve his premises in 
a state of the greatest attainable neatness, and every Sunday 
morning to dispose his ropes in neat Flemish coils. 

The main-mast-man of the Neversink was a very aged 
seaman, who well deserved his comfortable berth. He had 
seen more than half a century of the most active service, and, 
through all, had proved himself a good and faithful man. He 


334 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


famished one of the very rare examples of a sailor in a green 
old age ; for, with most sailors, old age comes in youth, and 
Hardship and Vice carry them on an early bier to the grave. 

As in the evening of life, and at the close of the day, old 
Abraham sat at the door of his tent, biding his time to die, so 
sits our old mast-man on the coat of the mast , glancing round 
him with patriarchal benignity. And that mild expression of 
his sets off very strangely a face that has been burned almost 
black by the torrid suns that shone fifty years ago — a face 
that is seamed with three sabre cuts. You would almost 
think this old mast-man had been blown out of Vesuvius, to 
look alone at his scarred, blackened forehead, chin, and cheeks. 
But gaze down into his eye, and though all the snows of Time 
have drifted higher and higher upon his brow, yet deep down 
in that eye you behold an infantile, sinless look, the same that 
answered the glance of this old man’s mother when first she 
cried for the babe to be laid by her side. That look is the 
fadeless, ever infantile immortality within. 

***** 

The Lord Nelsons of the sea, though but Barons in the 
state, yet oftentimes prove more potent than their royal mas- 
ters ; and at such scenes as Trafalgar — dethroning this Em- 
peror and reinstating that — enact on the ocean the proud part 
of mighty Richard Nevil, the king-making Earl of the land. 
And as Richard Nevil entrenched himself in his moated old 
man-of-war castle of Warwick, which, underground, was 
traversed with vaults, hewn out of the solid rock, and intri- 
cate as the wards of the , old keys of Calais surrendered to 
Edward III. ; even so do these King-Commodores house 
themselves in their water-rimmed, cannon-sentried frigates, 
oaken dug, deck under deck, as cell under cell. And as th< 
old Middle-Age warders of Warwick, every night at curfew 
patrolled the battlements, and dove down into the vaults to 
see that all lights were extinguished, even so do the master- 
at-arms and ship’s corporals of a frigate perambulate all the 
decks of a man-of-war, blowing out all tapers but those burn- 
ing in the legalized battle-lanterns. Yea, in these things, so 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


335 


potent is the authority of these sea-wardens, that, though 
almost the lowest subalterns in the ship, yet should they find 
the Senior Lieutenant himself sitting up late in his state- 
room, reading Bowditch’s Navigator, or D’ Anton “ On Gun- 
powder and Fire-arms” they would infallibly blow the light 
out under his very nose ; nor durst that Grand-Vizier resent 
the indignity. 

But, unwittingly, I have ennobled, by grand historical com- 
parisons, this prying, pettifogging, Irish-informer of a master- 
at-arms. 

You have seen some slim, slip-shod housekeeper, at mid- 
night, ferreting over a rambling old house in the country, 
starting at fancied witches and ghosts, yet intent on seeing 
every door bolted, every smouldering ember in the fire-places 
smothered, every loitering domestic abed, and: every fight 
made dark. This is the master-at-arms taking his night- 
rounds in a frigate. 

# # ^ # * 

It may be thought that but little is seen of the Commo- 
dore in these chapters, and that, since he so seldom appears 
on the stage, he can not be so august a personage, after all. 
But the mightiest potentates keep the most behind the vail. 
You might tarry in Constantinople a month, and never catch 
a glimpse of the Sultan. The Grand Lama of Thibet, ac- 
cording to some accounts, is never beheld by the people. But 
if any one doubts the majesty of a Commodore, let him know 
that, according to XLII. of the Articles of War, he is in- 
vested with a prerogative which, according to monarchical 
jurists, is inseparable from the throne — the plenary pardon- 
ing power. He may pardon all offences committed in the 
squadron under his command. 

But this prerogative is only his while at sea, or on a for- 
eign station. A circumstance peculiarly significant of the 
great difference between the stately absolutism of a Commo- 
dore enthroned on his poop in a foreign harbor, and an un- 
laced Commodore negligently reclining in an easy-chair in 
the bosom of his family at home. 


CHAPTER LXIX. 


PRAYERS AT THE GUNS. 

The training-days, or general quarters, now and then tak- 
ing place in our frigate, have already been described, also the 
Sunday devotions on the half-deck ; but nothing has yet been 
said concerning the daily morning and evening quarters, when 
the men silently stand at their guns, and the chaplain simply 
offers up a prayer. 

Let us now enlarge upon this matter. We have plenty of 
time ; the occasion invites ; for behold ! the homeward-bound 
Neversink bowls along over a jubilant sea. 

Shortly after breakfast the drum beats to quarters ; and 
among five hundred men, scattered over all three decks, and 
engaged in all manner of ways, that sudden rolling march is 
magical as the monitory sound to which every good Mussul- 
man at sunset drops to the ground whatsoever his hands might 
have found to do, and, throughout all Turkey, the people in 
concert kneel toward their holy Mecca. 

The sailors run to and fro — some up the deck-ladders, some 
down — to gain their respective stations in the shortest possi- 
ble time. In three minutes all is composed. One by one, 
the various officers stationed over the separate divisions of the 
ship then approach the First Lieutenant on the quarter-deck, 
and report their respective men at their quarters. It is cu- 
rious to watch their countenances at this time. A profound 
silence prevails ; and, emerging through the hatchway, from 
one of the lower decks, a slender young officer appears, hug- 
ging his sword to his thigh, and advances through the long 
lanes of sailors at their guns, his serious eye all the time fixed 
upon the First Lieutenant’s — his polar star. Sometimes he 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


337 


essays a stately and graduated step, an erect and martial 
bearing, and seems full of the vast national importance of 
what he is about to communicate. 

But when at last he gains his destination, you are amazed 
to perceive that all he has to say is imparted by a Free-mason 
touch of his cap, and a bow. He then turns and makes off 
to his division, perhaps passing several brother Lieutenants, 
all bound on the same errand he himself has just achieved. 
For about five minutes these officers are coming and going, 
bringing in thrilling intelligence from all quarters of the frig- 
ate ; most stoically received, however, by the First Lieuten- 
ant. With his legs apart, so as to give a broad foundation 
for the superstructure of his dignity, this gentleman stands 
stiff as a pike-staff on the quarter-deck. One hand holds his 
sabre — an appurtenance altogether unnecessary at the time ; 
and which he accordingly tucks, point backward, under his 
arm, like an umbrella on a sunshiny day. The other hand 
is continually bobbing up and down to the leather front of his 
cap, in response to the reports and salutes of his subordinates, 
to whom he never deigns to vouchsafe a syllable ; merely go- 
ing through the motions of accepting their news, without be- 
stowing thanks for their pains. 

This continual touching of caps between officers on board a 
man-of-war is the reason why you invariably notice that the 
glazed fronts of their caps look jaded, lack-lustre, and worn ; 
sometimes slightly oleaginous — though, in other respects, the 
cap may appear glossy and fresh. But as for the First Lieu- 
tenant, he ought to have extra pay allowed to him, on account 
of his extraordinary outlays in cap fronts ; for he it is to 
whom all day long, reports of various kinds are incessantly 
being made by the junior Lieutenants ; and no report is made 
by them, however trivial, but caps are touched on the occa- 
sion. It is obvious that these individual salutes must be 
greatly multiplied and aggregated upon the senior Lieutenant, 
who must return them all. Indeed, when a subordinate offi- 
cer is first promoted to that rank, he generally complains of 

P 


338 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


the same exhaustion about the shoulder and elbow that La 
Fayette mourned over, when, in visiting America, he did little 
else hut shake the sturdy hands of patriotic farmers from sun- 
rise to sunset. 

The various officers of divisions having presented their re- 
spects, and made good their return to their stations, the First 
Lieutenant turns round, and, marching aft, endeavors to catch 
the eye of the Captain, in order to touch his own cap to that 
personage, and thereby, without adding a word of explanation, 
communicate the fact of all hands being at their guns. He 
is a sort of retort, or receiver general, to concentrate the whole 
sum of the information imparted to him, and discharge it upon 
his superior at one touch of his cap front. 

But sometimes the Captain feels out of sorts, or in ill-hu- 
mor, or is pleased to be somewhat capricious, or has a fancy 
to show a touch of his omnipotent supremacy ; or, peradven- 
ture, it has so happened that the First Lieutenant has, in 
some way, piqued or offended him, and he is not unwilling to 
show a slight specimen of his dominion over him, even before 
the eyes of all hands ; at all events, only by some one of these 
suppositions can the singular circumstance be accounted for, 
that frequently Captain Claret would pertinaciously prom- 
enade up and down the poop, purposely averting his eye from 
the First Lieutenant, who would stand below in the most awk- 
ward suspense, waiting the first wink from his superior’s eye. 

“ Now I have him !” he must have said to himself, as the 
Captain would turn toward him in his walk ; “ now’s my 
time !” and up would go his hand to his cap ; but, alas ! the 
Captain was off again ; and the men at the guns would cast 
sly winks at each other as the embarrassed Lieutenant would 
bite his lips with suppressed vexation. 

Upon some occasions this scene would be repeated several 
times, till at last Captain Claret, thinking, that in the eyes 
of all hands, his dignity must by this time be pretty well bol- 
stered, would stalk toward his subordinate, looking him full 
in the eyes ; whereupon up goes his hand to the cap front, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


339 


and the Captain, nodding his acceptance of the report, de- 
scends from his perch to the quarter-deck. 

By this time the stately Commodore slowly emerges from 
his cabin, and soon stands leaning alone against the brass 
rails of the after-hatchway. In passing him, the Captain 
makes a profound salutation, which his superior returns, in 
token that the Captain is at perfect liberty to proceed with 
the ceremonies of the hour. 

Marching on, Captain Claret at last halts near the main- 
mast, at the head of a group of the ward-room officers, and 
by the side of the Chaplain. At a sign from his finger, the 
brass band strikes up the Portuguese hymn. This over, from 
Commodore to hammock-boy, all hands uncover, and the 
Chaplain reads a prayer. Upon its conclusion, the drum 
beats the retreat, and the ship’s company disappear from the 
guns. At sea or in harbor, this ceremony is repeated every 
morning and evening. 

By those stationed on the quarter-deck the Chaplain is dis- 
tinctly heard ; but the quarter-deck gun division embraces but 
a tenth part of the ship’s company, many of whom are below, 
on the main-deck, where not one syllable of the prayer can be 
hedird. This seemed a great misfortune ; for I well knew 
myself how blessed and soothing it was to mingle twice every 
day in these peaceful devotions, and, with the Commodore, and 
Captain, and smallest boy, unite in acknowledging Almighty 
God. There was also a touch of the temporary equality of 
the Church about it, exceedingly grateful to a man-of-war’s- 
man like me. 

My carronade-gun happened to be directly opposite the 
brass railing against which the Commodore invariably leaned 
at prayers. Brought so close together, twice every day, for 
more than a year, we could not but become intimately ac- 
quainted with each other’s faces. To this fortunate circum- 
stance it is to be ascribed, that some time after reaching home, 
we were able to recognize each other when we chanced to 
meet in Washington, at a ball given by the Russian Minis- 


340 


W HITE-JACKET. 


ter, the Baron de Bodisco. And though, while on hoard the 
frigate, the Commodore never in any manner personally ad- 
dressed me — nor did I him — yet, at the Minister’s social en- 
tertainment, we there became exceedingly chatty ; nor did I 
fail to observe, among that crowd of foreign dignitaries and 
magnates from all parts of America, that my worthy friend 
did not appear so exalted as when leaning, in solitary state, 
against the brass railing of the Neversink’s quarter-deck. 
Like many other gentlemen, he appeared to the best advant- 
age, and was treated with the most deference in the bosom 
of his home, the frigate. 

Our morning and evening quarters were agreeably diversi- 
fied for some weeks by a little circumstance, which to some 
of us at least, always seemed very pleasing. 

At Callao, half of the Commodore’s cabin had been hospi- 
tably yielded to the family of a certain aristocratic-looking 
magnate, who was going embassador from Peru to the Court 
of the Brazils, at Bio. This dignified diplomatist sported a 
long, twirling mustache, that almost enveloped his mouth. 
The sailors said, he looked like a rat with his teeth through 
a bunch of oakum, or a St. Jago monkey peeping through a 
prickly-pear bush. 

He was accompanied by a very beautiful wife, and a still 
more beautiful little daughter, about six years old. Between 
this dark-eyed little gipsy and our chaplain there soon sprung 
up a cordial love and good feeling, so much so, that they were 
seldom apart. And whenever the drum beat to quarters, and 
the sailors were hurrying to their stations, this little signorita 
would outrun them all to gain her own quarters at the cap- 
stan, where she would stand by the chaplain’s side, grasping 
his hand, and looking up archly in his face. 

It was a sweet relief from the domineering sternness of our 
martial discipline — a sternness not relaxed even at our devo- 
tions before the altar of the common God of commodore and 
cabin-boy — to see that lovely little girl standing among the 
thirty-two-pounders, and now and then casting a wondering, 
commiserating glance at the array of grim seamen around her 


CHAPTER LXX. 


MONTHLY MUSTER ROUND THE CAPSTAN. 

Besides general quarters, and the regular morning and 
evening quarters for prayers on board the Neversink, on the 
first Stinday of every month we had a grand “ muster round 
the capstan ,” when we passed in solemn review; before the 
Captain and officers, who closely scanned our frocks and trow- 
sers, to see whether they were according to the Navy cut. In 
some ships, every man is required to bring his hag and ham- 
mock along for inspection. 

This ceremony acquires its chief solemnity, and, to a novice, 
is rendered even terrible, by the reading of the Articles of War 
by the Captain’s clerk before the assembled ship’s company, 
who, in testimony of their enforced reverence for the code, 
stand bareheaded till the last sentence is pronounced. 

To a mere amateur reader the quiet perusal of these Arti- 
cles of War would be attended with some nervous emotions. 
Imagine, then, what my feelings must have been, when, with 
my hat deferentially in my hand, I stood before my lord and 
master, Captain Claret, and heard these Articles read as the 
law and gospel, the infallible, unappealable dispensation and 
code, whereby I lived, and moved, and had my being on board 
of the United States ship Neversink. 

Of some twenty offences — made penal — that a seaman may 
commit, and which are specified in this code, thirteen are pun- 
ishable by death. 

“Shall suffer death!” This was the burden of nearly 
eveiy Article read by the Captain’s clerk ; for he seemed to 
have been instructed to omit the longer Articles, and only 
present those which were brief and to the point. 


342 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


11 Shall suffer death /” The repeated announcement falls 
on your ear like the intermitting discharge of artillery. After 
it has been repeated again and again, you listen to the reader 
as he deliberately begins a new paragraph ; you hear him re- 
citing the involved, but comprehensive and clear arrangement 
of the sentence, detailing all possible particulars of the offence 
described, and you breathlessly await, whether that clause also 
is going to be concluded by the discharge of the terrible minute- 
gun. When, lo ! it again booms on your ear — shall suffer 
death ! No reservations, no contingencies ; not the remotest 
promise of pardon or reprieve ; not a glimpse of commutation 
of the sentence ; all hope and consolation is shut out — shall 
suffer death ! that is the simple fact for you to digest ; and it 
is a tougher morsel, believe White- Jacket when he says it, 
than a forty-two-pound cannon-ball. 

But there is a glimmering of am alternative to the sailor 
who infringes these Articles. Some of them thus terminate : 
“ Shall suffer death , or such punishment as a court-martial 
shall adjudged But hints this at a penalty still more serious ? 
Perhaps it means “ death , or worse punishment” 

Your honors of the Spanish Inquisition, Loyola and Tor- 
quemada ! produce, reverend gentlemen, your most secret 
code, and match these Articles of War, if you can. Jack 
Ketch, you, also are experienced in these things ! Thou most 
benevolent of mortals, who standest by us, and hangest round 
our necks, when all the rest of this world are against us — tell 
us, hangman, what punishment is this, horribly hinted at as 
being worse than death ? Is it, upon an empty stomach, to 
read the Articles of War every morning, for the term of one’s 
natural life ? Or is it to be imprisoned in a cell, with its 
walls papered from floor to ceiling with printed copies, in ital- 
ics, of these Articles of War ? 

But it needs not to dilate upon the pure, bubbling milk of 
human kindness, and Christian charity, and forgiveness of 
injuries which pervade this charming document, so thorough- 
ly imbued, as a Christian code, with the benignant spirit of 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 343 

the Sermon on the Mount. But as it is very nearly alike in 
the foremost states of Christendom, and as it is nationally set 
forth by those states, it indirectly becomes an index to the 
true condition of the present civilization of the world. 

As, month after month, I would stand bareheaded among 
my shipmates, and hear this document read, I have thought 
to myself, Well, well, White- Jacket, you are in a sad box, 
indeed. But prick your ears, there goes another minute-gun. 
It admonishes you to take all bad usage in good part, and 
never to join in any public meeting that may be held on the 
gun-deck for a redress of grievances. Listen : 

Art. XIII. 11 If any person in the navy shall make, or 
attempt to make, any mutinous assembly, he shall, on convic- 
tion thereof by a court martial, suffer death I 

Bless me, White- Jacket, are you a great gun yourself, that 
you so recoil, to the extremity of your breechings, at that dis- 
charge ? 

But give ear again. Here goes another minute-gun. It 
indirectly admonishes you to receive the grossest insult, and 
stand still under it : 

Art. XIV. “ No private in the navy shall disobey the 
lawful orders of his superior officer, or strike him, or draw, 
or offer to draw, or raise any weapon against him, ivhile in 
the execution of the duties of his office, o?i pain of death.” 

Do not hang back there by the bulwarks, White- Jacket ; 
come up to the mark once more ; for here goes still another 
minute-gun, which admonishes you never to be caught nap- 
ping : 

Part of Art. XX. “ If any person in the navy shall sleep 
upon his watch, he shall suffer death.” 

Murderous ! But then, in time of peace, they do not en- 
force these blood-thirsty law’s ? - Do they not, indeed ? What 
happened to those three sailors on board an American armed 
vessel a few years ago, quite within your memory, White- 
Jacket ; yea, while you yourself were yet serving on board 
this very frigate, the Neversink ? What happened to those 


344 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


_• 

three Americans, White- Jacket — those three sailors, even as 
you, who once were alive, but now are dead ? “ Shall suffer 

death /” those were the three words that hung those three 
sailors. 

Have a care, then, have a care, lest you come to a sad 
end, even the end of a rope ; lest, with a black-and-blue 
throat, you turn a dumb diver after pearl-shells ; put to bed 
forever, and tucked in, in your own hammock, at the bottom 
of the sea. And there you will lie, White- Jacket, while hos- 
tile navies are playing cannon-ball billiards over your grave. 

By the main-mast ! then, in a time of profound peace, I 
am subject to the cut-throat martial law ! And when my 
own brother, who happens to be dwelling ashore, and does 
not serve his country as I am now doing — when he is at 
liberty to call personally upon the President of the United 
States, and express his disapprobation of the whole national 
administration, here am 7, liable at any time to be run up at 
the yard-arm, with a necklace, made by no jeweler, round 
my neck ! 

A hard case, truly, White- Jacket ; but it can not be helped. 
Yes ; you live under this same martial law. Does not every 
thing around you din the fact in your ears ? Twice every 
day do you not jump to your quarters at the sound of a drum? 
Every morning, in port, are you not roused from your ham- 
mock by the reveille , and sent to it again at nightfall by the 
tattoo ? Every Sunday are you not commanded in the mere 
matter of the very dress you shall wear through that blessed 
day ? Can your shipmates so much as drink their “ tot of 
grog?” nay, can they even drink but a cup of water at the 
scuttle-butt, without an armed sentry standing over them ? 
Does not every officer wear a sword instead of a cane ? You 
live and move among twenty-four-pounders, White- Jacket ; 
the very cannon-balls are deemed an ornament around you, 
serving to embellish the hatchways ; and should you come to 
die at sea, White- Jacket, still two cannon-balls would bear 
you company when you would be committed to the deep. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


345 


Yea, by all methods, and devices, and inventions, you are 
momentarily admonished of the fact that you live under the 
Articles of War. And by virtue of them it is, White- Jacket, 
that, without a hearing and without a trial, you may, at a 
wink from the Captain, be condemned to the scourge. 

Speak you true ? Then let me fly ! 

Nay, White- Jacket, the landless horizon hoops you in. 

Some tempest, then, surge all the sea against us ! hidden 
reefs and rocks, arise and dash the ship to chips ! I was not 
born a serf, and will not live a slave ! Quick ! cork-screw 
whirlpools, suck us down ! world’s end whelm us ! 

Nay, White-Jacket, though this frigate laid her broken 
bones upon the Antarctic shores of Palmer’s Land ; though 
not two planks adhered ; though all her guns were spiked by 
sword-fish blades, and at her yawning hatchways mouth- 
yawning sharks swam in and out ; yet, should you escape the 
wreck and scramble to the beach, this Martial Law would 
meet you still, and snatch you by the throat. Hark ! 

Art. XLII. Part of Sec. 3. — “In all cases where the 
crews o f the ships or vessels of the United States shall be sep- 
arated from their vessels by the latter being wrecked , lost , or 
destroyed , all the command , power , and authority given to 
the officers of such ships or vessels shall remain , and be in 
full force , as effectually as if such ship or vessel were not so 
wrecked , lost , or destroyed .” 

Hear you that, White- Jacket ! I tell you there is no 
escape. Afloat or wrecked the Martial Law relaxes not its 
gripe. And though, by that self-same warrant, for some of- 
fence therein set down, you were indeed to “suffer death,” 
even then the Martial Law might hunt you straight through 
the other world, and out again at its other end, following you 
through all. eternity, like an endless thread on the inevitable 
track of its own point, passing unnumbered needles through. 

r* 


CHAPTER LXXI 


THE GENEALOGY OF THE ARTICLES OF WAR. 

As the Articles of War form the ark and constitution of the 
penal laws of the American Navy, in all sobriety and earnest- 
ness it may he well to glance at their origin. Whence came 
they ? And how is it that one arm of the national defences 
of a Republic comes to he ruled by a Turkish code, whose 
every section almost, like each of the tubes of a revolving pis- 
tol, fires nothing short of death into the heart of an offender ? 
How comes it that, by virtue of a law solemnly ratified by a 
Congress of freemen, the representatives of freemen, thousands 
of Americans are subjected to the most despotic usages, and, 
from the dock-yards of a republic, absolute monarchies are 
launched, with the “glorious stars and stripes” for an ensign? 
By what unparalleled anomaly, by what monstrous grafting 
of tyranny upon freedom did these Articles of War ever come 
to he so much as heard of in the American Navy ? 

Whence cflfrie they ? They can not be the indigenous 
growth of those political institutions, which are based upon 
that arch-democrat Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration of Inde- 
pendence ? No ; they are an importation from abroad, even 
from Britain, whose laws we Americans hurled off as tyran- 
nical, and yet retained the most tyrannical of all. 

But we stop not here ; for these Articles of War had their 
congenial origin in a period of the history of Britain when 
the Puritan Republic had yielded to a monarchy restored ; 
when a hangman Judge Jeffreys sentenced a world’s champion 
like Algernon Sidney to the block ; when one of a race — by 
some deemed accursed of God — even a Stuart, was on the 
throne ; and a Stuart, also, was at the head of the Navy, as 


T II E VV O R L L) IN A MAN-0 F-W A R. 


347 


Lord High Admiral. One, the son of a King beheaded for 
encroachments upon the rights of his people, and the other, 
his own brother, afterward a king, James II., who was hurl- 
ed from the throne for his tyranny. This is the origin of the 
Articles of War ; and it carries with it an unmistakable ' 
clew to their despotism.* 

Nor is it a dumb thing that the men who, in democratic 
Cromwell’s time, first proved -to the nations the toughness of 
the British oak and the hardihood of the British sailor — that 
in Cromwell’s time, whose fleets struck terror into the cruisers 
of France, Spain, Portugal, and Holland, and the corsairs of 
Algiers and the Levant ; in Cromwell’s time, when Robert 
Blake swept the Narrow Seas of all the keels of a Dutch Ad- 

* The first Naval Articles of War in the English language were 
passed in the thirteenth year of the reign of Charles the Second, under 
the title of “ An act for establishing Articles and, Orders for the regu- 
lating and better Government of his Majesty's Navies, Ships-of-War , 
and Forces by Sea." This act was repealed, and, so far as concerned 
the officers, a modification of it substituted, in the twenty-second year 
of the reign of George the Second, shortly after the Peace of Aix la 
Chapelle, just one century ago. This last act, it is believed, comprises, 
in substance, the Articles of War at this day in force in the British 
Navy. It is not a little curious, nor without meaning, that neither of 
these acts explicitly empowers an officer to. inflict the lash. It would 
almost seem as if, in this case, the British lawgivers were willing to 
leave such a stigma out of an organic statute, and bestow the power 
of the lash in some less solemn, and perhaps less public manner. In 
deed, the only broad enactments directly sanctioning naval scourging 
at sea are to be found in the United States Statute. Book and in the 
“ Sea Laws” of the absolute monarch, Louis le Grand, of France. 1 

Taking for their basis the above-mentioned British Naval Code, and 
ingrafting upon it the positive scourging laws, which Britain was loth 
to recognize as organic statutes, our American lawgivers, in the year 
1800, framed the Articles of War now governing the American Navy. 
They may be found in the second volume of the “United States Stat- 
utes at Large,” under chapter xxxiii; — “An act for the better govern- 
ment of the Navy of the United States.” . 

i For reference to the latter (L’Ord. de la Marine), vide Curtis’s “Treatise on the 
.lights and Duties of Merchant-Seamen, according to the General Maritime Law,” 
Part ii., c. i. 


348 


WHITE-JACKET 


miral who insultingly carried a broom at his fore-mast ; it is 
not a dumb thing that, at a period deemed so glorious to the 
British Navy, these Articles of War were unknown. 

Nevertheless, it is granted that some laws or other must 
have governed Blake’s sailors at that period ; but they must 
have been far less severe than those laid down in the written 
code which superseded them, since, according to the father-in- 
law of James II., the Historian of the Rebellion, the English 
Navy, prior to the enforcement of the new code, was full of 
officers and sailors who, of all men, were the most republican. 
^Moreover, the same author informs us that the first work un- 
dertaken by his respected son-in-law, then Duke of York, upon 
entering on the duties of Lord High Admiral, was to have a 
grand re-christening of the men-of-war, which still carried on 
their stems names too democratic to suit his high-tory ears. 

But if these Articles of War were unknown in Blake’s 
time, and also during the most brilliant period of Admiral 
Benbow’s career, what inference must follow ? That such 
tyrannical ordinances are not indispensable — even during war 
— to the highest possible efficiency of a military marine. 


CHAPTER LXXI1. 


“ HEREIN ARE THE GOOD ORDINANCES OF THE SEA, WHICH WISE 

MEN, WHO VOYAGED ROUND THE WORLD, GAVE TO OUR AN- 
CESTORS, AND WHICH CONSTITUTE THE BOOKS OF THE SCI- 
ENCE of good customs.” — The Consulate of the Sea. 

The present usages of the American Navy are such that, 
though there is no government enactment to that effect, yet, 
in many respects, its Commanders seem virtually invested with 
the power to observe or violate, as seems to them fit, several 
of the Articles of War. 

According to Article XV., “ No 'person in the Navy shall 
quarrel with any other person in the Navy, nor use provok- 
ing or reproachful words , gestures , or menaces , on pain of 
such punishment as a court-martial shall adjudge .” 

“ Provoking or reproachful words /” Officers of the Navy, 
answer me ! Have you not, many of you, a thousand times 
violated this law, and addressed to men, whose tongues were 
tied by this very Article, language which no landsman would 
ever hearken to without flying at the throat of his insulter ? 
I know- that worse words than you ever used are to be heard 
addressed by a merchant-captain to his crew ; but the mer- 
chant-captain does not live under this XV. th Article of War. 

Not to make an example of him, nor to gratify any personal 
feeling, but to furnish one certain illustration of what is here 
asserted, I honestly declare that Captain Claret, of the Never- 
sink, repeatedly violated this law in his own proper person. 

According to Article III., no officer, or other person in the 
Navy, shall be guilty of “ oppression, fraud, profane swearing, 
drunkenness, or any other scandalous conduct.” 

Again let me ask you, officers of the Navy, whether many 


350 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


of you have not repeatedly, and in more than one particular, 
violated this law ? And here, again, as a certain illustration, 
I must once more cite Captain Claret as an offender, especially 
in the matter of profane swearing. I must also cite four of 
the lieutenants, some eight of the midshipmen, and nearly all 
the seamen. 

Additional Articles might he quoted that are habitually 
violated by the officers, while nearly all those exclusively re- 
ferring to the sailors are unscrupulously enforced. Yet those 
Articles, by which the sailor is scourged at the gangway, are 
not one whit more laws than those other Articles, binding 
upon the officers, that have become obsolete from immemorial 
disuse ; while still other Articles, to which the sailors alone 
are obnoxious, are observed or violated at the caprice of the 
Captain. Now, if it be not so much the severity as the cer- 
tainty of punishment that deters from transgression, how fatal 
to all proper reverence for the enactments of Congress must 
be this disregard of its statutes. 

Still more. This violation of the law, on the part of the 
officers, in many cases involves oppression to the sailor. But 
throughout the whole naval code, which so hems in the mar- 
iner by law upon law, and which invests the Captain with so 
much judicial and administrative authority over him — in most 
cases entirely discretionary — not one solitary clause is to be 
found which in any way provides means for a seaman deem- 
ing himself aggrieved to obtain redress. Indeed, both the 
written and unwritten laws of the American Navy are as des- 
titute of individual guarantees to the mass of seamen as the 
Statute Book of the despotic Empire of Russia. 

Who put this great gulf between the American Captain 
and the American sailor ? Or is the Captain a creature of 
like passions with ourselves? Or is he an infallible arch- 
angel, incapable of the shadow of error ? Or has a sailor no 
mark of humanity, no attribute of manhood, that, bound hand 
and foot, he is cast into an American frigate shorn of all 
rights and defences, while the notorious lawlessness of the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


351 


Commander has passed into a proverb, familiar to man-of- 
war’ s-men, the law was not made for the Captain! Indeed, 
he may almost be said to put off the citizen when he touches 
his quarter-deck ; and, almost exempt from the law of the 
land himself, he comes down upon others with a judicial se- 
verity unknown on the national soil. With the Articles oT 
War in one hand, and the cat-o’-nine-tails in the other, he 
stands an undignified parody upon Mohammed enforcing Mos- 
lemism with the sword and the Koran. 

The concluding sections of the Articles of War treat of the 
naval courts-martial before which officers are tried for serious 
offences as well as the seamen. The oath administered to 
members of these courts — which sometimes sit upon matters 
of life and death — explicitly enjoins that the members shall 
not 11 at any time divulge the vote or opinion of any particu- 
lar member of the court , unless required so to do before a 
court of justice in due course of law .” 

Here, then, is a Council of Ten and a Star Chamber in- 
deed ! Remember, also, that though the sailor is sometimes 
tried for his life before a tribunal like this, in no case do his 
fellow-sailors, his peers, form part of the court. Yet that a 
man should be tried by his peers is the fundamental principle 
of all civilized jurisprudence. And not only tried by his peers, 
but his peers must be unanimous to render a verdict ; where- 
as, in a court-martial, the concurrence of a majority of con- 
ventional and social superiors is all that is requisite. 

In the English Navy, it is said, they had a law which au- 
thorized the sailor to appeal, if he chose, from the decision of 
the Captain — even in a comparatively trivial case — to the 
higher tribunal of a court-martial. It was an English sea- 
man who related this to me. When I said that such a law 
must be a fatal clog to the exercise of the penal power in the 
Captain, he, in substance, told me the following story. 

A top-man guilty of drunkenness being sent to the gratings, 
and the scourge about to be inflicted, he turned round and de- 
manded a court-martial. The Captain smiled, and ordered 


352 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


him to be taken down and put into the “ brig.” There he 
was kept in irons some weeks, when, despairing of being lib- 
erated, he offered to compromise at two dozen lashes. “ Sick 
of your bargain, then, are you ?” said the Captain. “ No, no ? 
a court-martial you demanded, and a court-martial you shall 
have !” Being at last tried before the bar of quarter-deck 
officers, he%as condemned to two hundred lashes. What for ? 
for his having been drunk ? No ! for his having had the in- 
solence to appeal from an authority, in maintaining which the 
men who tried and condemned him had so strong a sympa- 
thetic interest. 

Whether this story be wholly true or not, or whether the 
particular law involved prevails, or ever did prevail, in the 
English Navy, the thing, nevertheless, illustrates the ideas 
that man-of-war’ s-men themselves have touching the tribunals 
in question. 

What can be expected from a court whose deeds are done 
in the darkness of the recluse courts of the Spanish Inquisi- 
tion ? when that darkness is solemnized by an oath on the 
Bible ? when an oligarchy of epaulets sits upon the bench, 
and a plebeian top-man, without a jury, stands judicially nak- 
ed at the bar ? 

In view of these things, and especially in view of the fact 
that, in several cases, the degree of punishment inflicted upon 
a man-of-war’ s-man is absolutely left to the discretion of the 
court, what shame should American legislators take to them- 
selves, that with perfect truth we may apply to the entire 
body of American man-of-war’s-men that infallible principle 
of Sir Edward Coke : “ It is one of the genuine marks of serv- 
itude to have the law either concealed or precarious” But 
still better may we subscribe to the saying of Sir Matthew 
Hale in his History of the Common Law, that “ the Martial 
Law , being based upon no settled principles , is, in truth and 
reality , no law , but something indidged rather than allowed 
as a law.” 

I know it may be said that the whole nature of this naval 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


353 


code is purposely adapted to the war exigencies of the Navy. 
But waiving the grave question that might he raised concern- 
ing the moral, not judicial, lawfulness of this arbitrary code, 
even in time of war ; he it asked, why is it in force during a 
time of peace ? The United States has now existed as a na- 
tion upward of seventy years, and in all that time the alleged 
necessity for the operation of the naval code — in eases deemed 
capital — has only existed during a period of two or three 
years at most. 

Some may urge that the severest operations of the code are 
tacitly made null in time of peace. But though with respect 
to several of the Articles this holds true, yet at any time 
any and all of them may he legally enforced. Nor have there 
been wanting recent instances, illustrating the spirit of this 
code, even in cases where the letter of the code was not alto- 
gether observed. The well-known case of a United States 
brig furnishes a memorable example, which at any moment 
may be repeated. Three men, in a time of peace, were then 
hung at the yard-arm, merely because, in the Captain’s judg- 
ment, it became necessary to hang them. To this day the 
question of their complete guilt is socially discussed. 

How shall we characterize such a deed ? Says Black- 
stone, “ If any one that hath commission of martial authority 
doth, in time of peace, hang, or otherwise execute any man 
by color of martial law, this is murder ; for it is against Mag- 
na Charta.”^ 

Magna Charta ! We moderns, who may be landsmen, 
may justly boast of civil immunities not possessed by our fore- 
fathers ; but our remoter forefathers who happened to be 
mariners may straighten themselves even in their ashes to 
think that their lawgivers were wiser and more humane in 
their generation than our lawgivers in ours. Compare the 
sea-laws of our Navy with the Roman and Rhodian ocean 
ordinances ; compare them with the “ Consulate of the Sea 
compare them with the Laws of the Hanse Towns ; compare 
* Commentaries, b. i., c. xiii. 


354 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


them with the ancient Wisbury laws. In the last we find 
that they were ocean democrats in those days. “ If he strikes, 
he ought to receive blow for blow.” Thus speak out the 
Wisbury laws concerning a Gothland sea-captain. 

In final reference to all that has been said in previous chap- 
ters touching the severity and unusualness of the laws of the 
American Navy, and the large authority vested in its com- 
manding ojEficers, be it here observed, that White- Jacket is 
not unaware of the fact, that the responsibility of an officer 
commanding at sea — whether in the merchant service or the 
national marine — is unparalleled by that of any other relation 
in which man may stand to man. Nor is he unmindful that 
both wisdom and humanity dictate that, from the peculiarity 
of his position, a sea-officer in command should be clothed 
with a degree of authority and discretion inadmissible in any 
master ashore. But, at the same time, these principles — rec- 
ognized by all writers on maritime law — have undoubtedly 
furnished warrant for clothing modem sea-commanders and. 
naval courts-martial with powers which exceed the due limits 
of reason and necessity. Nor is this the only instance where 
right and salutary principles, in themselves almost self-evident 
and infallible, have been advanced in justification of things, 
which in themselves are just as self-evidently wrong and per- 
nicious. 

Be it here, once and for all, understood, that no sentimental 
and theoretic love for the common sailor ; no romantic belief 
in that peculiar noble-heartedness and exaggerated generosity 
of disposition fictitiously imputed to him in novels ; and no 
prevailing desire to gain the reputation of being his friend, 
have actuated me in any thing I have said, in any part of this 
work, touching the gross oppression under which I know that 
the sailor suffers. Indifferent as to who may be the parties 
concerned, I but desire to see wrong things righted, and equal 
justice administered to all. 

Nor, as has been elsewhere hinted, is the general ignorance 
or depravity of any race of men to be alleged as an apology 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


355 


. for tyranny over them. On the contrary, it can not admit of 
a reasonable doubt, in any unbiased mind conversant with 
the interior life of a man-of-war, that most of the sailor in- 
iquities practiced therein are indirectly to be ascribed to the 
morally debasing effects of the unjust, despotic, and degrad- 
ing laws under which the man-of-war’ s-man lives. 


CHAPTER LXXIII. 


NIGHT AND DAY GAMBLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

Mention has already been made that the game of draughts, 
or checkers, was permitted to he played on board the Never- 
sink. At the present time, while there was little or no ship- 
work to he done, and all hands, in high spirits, were sailing 
homeward over the warm, smooth sea of the tropics ; so nu- 
merous became the players, scattered about the decks, that 
our First Lieutenant used ironically to say that it was a pity 
they were not tesselated with squares of white and black 
marble, for the express benefit and convenience of the play- 
ers. Had this gentleman had his way, our checker-boards 
would very soon have been pitched out of the ports. But the 
Captain — unusually lenient in some things — permitted them, 
and so Mr. Bridewell was fain to hold his peace. 

But, although this one game was allowable in the frigate, 
all kinds of gambling were strictly interdicted, under the pen- 
alty of the gangway ; nor were cards or dice tolerated in any 
way whatever. This regulation was indispensable, for, of all 
human beings, man-of-war’s-men are perhaps the most inclined 
to gambling. The reason must be obvious to any one who 
reflects upon their condition on shipboard. And gambling — 
the most mischievous of vices any where — in a man-of-war 
operates still more perniciously than on shore. But quite as 
often as the law against smuggling spirits is transgressed by 
the unscrupulous sailors, the statutes against cards and dice 
are evaded. 

Sable night, which, since the beginning of the world, has 
winked and looked on at so many deeds of iniquity — night is 
the time usually selected for their operations by man-of-war 
gamblers. The place pitched upon is generally the berth- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


357 


deck, where the hammocks are swung, and which is lighted 
so stintedly as not to disturb the sleeping seamen with any 
obtruding glare. In so spacious an area the two lanterns 
swinging from the stanchions diffuse a subdued illumination, 
like a night-taper in the apartment of some invalid. Owing 
to their position, also, these lanterns are far from shedding an 
impartial light, however dim, but fling long angular rays here 
and there, like burglar’s dark-lanterns in the fifty-acre vaults 
of the West India Docks on the Thames. 

It may well be imagined, therefore, how well adapted is 
this mysterious and subterranean Hall of Eblis to the clandes- 
tine proceedings of gamblers, especially as the hammocks not 
only hang thickly, but many of them swing very low, within 
two feet of the floor, thus forming innumerable little canvass 
glens, grottoes, nooks, corners, and crannies, where a good 
deal of wickedness may be practiced by the wary with consid- 
erable impunity. 

Now the master-at-arms, assisted by his mates, the ship’s 
corporals, reigns supreme in these bowels of the ship. Through- 
out the night these policemen relieve each other at standing 
guard over the premises ; and, except when the watches are 
called, they sit in the midst of a profound silence, only invaded 
by trumpeter’s snores, or the ramblings of some old sheet-an- 
chor-man in his sleep. 

The two ship’s corporals went among the sailors by the 
names of Leggs and Pounce ; Pounce had been a policeman, 
it was said, in Liverpool ; Leggs, a turnkey attached to 
“ The Tombs” in New York. Hence their education emi- 
nently fitted them for their stations ; and Bland, the master- 
at-arms, ravished with their dexterity in prying out offenders, 
used to call them his two right hands. 

When man-of-war’ s-men desire to gamble, they appoint the 
hour, and select some certain corner, in some certain shadow, 
behind some certain hammock. They then contribute a small 
sum toward a joint fund, to be invested in a bribe for some 
argus-eyed shipmate, who shall play the part of a spy upon 


358 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


the master-at-arms and corporals while the gaming is in prog- 
ress. In nine cases out of ten these arrangements are so cun- 
ning and comprehensive, that the gamblers, eluding all vigi- 
lance, conclude their game unmolested. But now and then, 
seduced into unwariness, or perhaps, from parsimony, being un- 
willing to employ the services of a spy, they are suddenly light- 
ed upon by the constables, remorselessly collared, and dragged 
into the brig, there to await a dozen lashes in the morning. 

Several times at midnight I have been startled out of a 
sound sleep by a sudden, violent rush under my hammock, 
caused by the abrupt breaking up of some nest of gamblers, 
who have scattered in all directions, brushing under the tiers 
of swinging pallets, and setting them all in a rocking com- 
motion. 

It is, however, while laying in port that gambling most 
thrives in a man-of-war. Then the men frequently practice 
their dark deeds in the light of the day, and the additional 
guards which, at such times, they deem indispensable, are not 
unworthy of note. More especially, their extra precautions 
in engaging the services of several spies, necessitate a consid- 
erable expenditure, so that, in port, the diversion of gambling 
rises to the dignity of a nabob luxury. 

During the day the master-at-arms and his corporals are 
continually prowling about on all three decks, eager to spy 
out iniquities. At one time, for example, you see Leggs 
switching his magisterial rattan, and lurking round the fore- 
mast on the spar-deck ; the next moment, perhaps, he is three 
decks down, out of sight, prowling among the cable-tiers. 
Just so with his master, and Pounce his coadjutor ; they are 
here, there, and every where, seemingly gifted with ubiquity. 

In order successfully to carry on their proceedings by day, 
the gamblers must see to it that each of these constables is 
relentlessly dogged wherever he goes ; so that, in case of his 
approach toward the spot where themselves are engaged, they 
may be warned of the fact in time to make good their escape. 
Accordingly, light and active scouts are selected to follow the 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


359 


constable about. From their youthful alertness and activity, 
the boys of the mizzen-top are generally chosen for this purpose. 

But this is not all. On board of most men-of-war there is 
a set of sly, knavish foxes among the crew, destitute of every 
principle of honor, and on a par with Irish informers. In 
man-of-war parlance, they come under the denomination of 
fancy-men and white-mice. They are called fancy-men , be- 
cause, from their zeal in craftily reporting offenders, they are 
presumed to be regarded with high favor by some of the offi- 
cers. Though it is seldom that these informers can be cer- 
tainly individualized, so secret and subtle are they in laying 
their information, yet certain of the crew, and especially cer- 
tain of the marines, are invariably suspected to be fancy-men 
and white-mice , and are accordingly more or less hated by 
their comrades. 

Now, in addition to having an eye on the master-at-arms 
and his aids, the day-gamblers must see to it, that every per- 
son suspected of being a white-mouse or fancy-man , is like- 
wise dogged wherever he goes. Additional scouts are retained 
constantly to snuff at their trail. But the mysteries of man 
of- war vice are wonderful ; and it is now to be recorded, that, 
from long habit and observation, and familiarity with the 
guardo moves and maneuvres of a frigate, the master-at-arms 
and his aids can almost invariably tell when any gambling is 
going on by day ; though, in the crowded vessel, abounding in 
decks, tops, dark places, and outlandish comers of all sorts, 
they may not be able to pounce upon the identical spot where 
the gamblers are hidden. 

During the period that Bland was suspended from his office 
as master-at-arms, a person who, among the sailors, went by 
the name of Sneak, having been long suspected to have been 
a white-mouse , was put in Bland’s place. He proved a hang- 
dog, sidelong catch-thief, but gifted with a marvelous perse- 
verance in ferreting out culprits ; following in their track like 
an inevitable Cuba blood-hound, with his noiseless nose. 
When disconcerted, however, you sometimes heard his bay. 


360 


WHITE-JACKET. 


“ The muffled dice are somewhere around,” Sneak would 
say to his aids ; “ there are them three chaps, there, been 
dogging me about for the last half hour. I say, Pounce, has 
any one been scouting around you this morning?” 

“ Four on ’em,” says Pounce. “ I know’d it ; I know’d 
the muffled dice was rattlin’ !” 

“ Leggs !” says the master-at-arms to his other aid, “ Leggs, 
how is it with you — any spies ?” 

“ Ten on ’em,” says Leggs. “ There’s one on ’em now — 
that fellow stitching a hat.” 

“ Halloo, you sir !” cried the master-at-arms, “ top your 
boom and sail large, now. If I see you about me again, I’ll 
have you up to the mast.” 

“ What am I a doin’ now?” says the hat-stitcher, with a 
face as long as a rope-walk. “ Can’t a feller be workin’ 
here, without being ’spected of Tom Coxe’s traverse, up one 
ladder and down t’other ?” 

“ Oh, I know the moves, sir ; I have been on board a 
guardo. Top your boom, I say, and be off, or I’ll have you 
hauled up and riveted in a clinch — both fore-tacks over the 
main-yard, and no bloody knife to cut the seizing. Sheer ! 
or I’ll pitch into you like a shin of beef into a beggar’s wallet.” 

It is often observable, that, in vessels of all kinds, the men 
who talk the most sailor lingo are the least sailor-like in re- 
ality. You may sometimes hear even marines jerk out more 
salt phrases than the Captain of the Forecastle himself. On 
the other hand, when not actively engaged in his vocation, 
you would take the best specimen of a seaman for a lands- 
man. When you see a fellow yawing about the docks like 
a homeward-bound Indiaman, a long Commodore’s pennant 
of black ribbon flying from his mast-head, and fetching up at 
a grog-shop with a slew of his hull, as if an Admiral were 
coming alongside a three-decker in his barge ; you may put 
that man down for what man-of-war’s-men call a damn-my- 
eyes-tar, that is, a humbug. And many damn-my-eyes hum- 
bugs there are in this man-of-war world of ours. 


CHAPTER LXXIV. 


THE MAIN-TOP AT NIGHT. 

The whole of our run from Rio to the Line was one delight- 
ful yachting, so far as fine weather and the ship’s sailing were 
concerned. It was especially pleasant when our quarter-watch 
lounged in the main-top, diverting ourselves in many agree- 
able ways. Removed from the immediate presence of the 
officers, we there harmlessly enjoyed ourselves, more than in 
any other part of the ship. By day, many of us were very 
industrious, making hats or mending our clothes. But by 
night we became more romantically inclined. 

Often Jack Chase, an enthusiastic admirer of sea-scenery, 
would direct our attention to the moonlight on the waves, by 
fine snatches from his catalogue of poets. I shall never for- 
get the lyric air with which, one morning, at dawn of day, 
when all the East was flushed with red and gold, he stood 
leaning against the top-mast shrouds, and, stretching his bold 
hand over the sea, exclaimed, “ Here comes Aurora : top- 
mates, see !” And, in a liquid, long-lingering tone, he recited 
the lines, 

“ With gentle hand, as seeming oft to pause, 

The purple curtains of the morn she draws.” 

“ Commodore Camoens, White-Jacket. — But bear a hand 
there ; we must rig out that stun’-sail boom — the wind is 
shifting.” 

From our lofty perch, of a moonlight night, the frigate it- 
self was a glorious sight. She was going large before the 
wind, her stun’-sails set on both sides, so that the canvass on 
the main-mast and fore-mast presented the appearance of two 
majestic, tapering pyramids, more than a hundred feet broad 
• Q 


362 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


at the base, and terminating in the clouds with the light cope- 
stone of the royals. That immense area of snow-white can- 
vass sliding along the sea was indeed a magnificent spectacle. 
The three shrouded masts looked like the apparitions of three 
gigantic Turkish Emirs striding over the ocean. 

Nor, at times, was the sound of music wanting, to augment 
the poetry of the scene. The whole band would he assembled 
on the poop, regaling the officers, and incidentally ourselves, 
with their fine old airs. To these, some of us would occasion- 
ally dance in the top , which was almost as large as an ordi- 
nary-sized parlor. When the instrumental melody of the 
hand was not to he had, our nightingales mustered their voi- 
ces, and gave us a song. 

Upon these occasions Jack Chase was often called out, and 
regaled us, in his own free and noble style, with the “ Spanish 
Ladies ” — a favorite thing with British man-of-war’s-men — 
and many other salt-sea ballads and ditties, including, 

“ Sir Patrick Spens was the best sailor 
That ever sailed the sea.” 

Also, 

11 And three times around spun our gallant ship ; 

,>n.; Three times around spun she ; 

Three times around spun our gallant ship, 

And she went to the bottom of the sea — 

The sea, the sea, the sea, 

And she went to the bottom of the sea !” 

These songs would be varied by sundry yarns and twisters 
of the top-men. And it was at these times that I always en- 
deavored to draw out the oldest Tritons into narratives of the 
war-service they had seen. There were hut few of them, it 
is true, who had been in action ; but that only made their 
narratives the more valuable. 

There was an old negro, who went by the name of Taw- 
ney, a sheet-anchor-man, whom we often invited into our top 
of tranquil nights, to hear him discourse. He was a staid and 
sober seaman, very intelligent, with a fine, frank bearing, one 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


363 


of the best men in the ship, and held in high estimation by 
every one. 

It seems that, during the last war between England and 
America, he had, with several others, been “ impressed” upon 
the high seas, out of a New England merchantman. The 
ship that impressed him was an English frigate, the Macedo- 
nian, afterward taken by the Neversink, the ship in which 
we were sailing. 

It was the holy Sabbath, according to Tawney, and, as the 
Briton bore down on the American — her men at their quar- 
ters — Tawney and his countrymen, who happened to be sta- 
tioned at the quarter-deck battery, respectfully accosted the 
captain — an old man by the name of Cardan — as he passed 
them, in his rapid promenade, his spy-glass under his arm. 
Again they assured him that they were not Englishmen, and 
that it was a most bitter thing to lift their hands against the 
flag of that country which harbored the mothers that bore 
them. They conjured him to release them from their guns, 
and allow them to remain neutral during the conflict. But 
when a ship of any nation is running into action, it is no time 
for argument, small time for justice, and not much time for 
humanity. Snatching a pistol from the belt of a carder 
standing by, the Captain leveled it at the heads of the three 
sailors, and commanded them instantly to their quarters, un- 
der penalty of being shot on the spot. So, side by side with 
his country’s foes, Tawney and his companions toiled at the 
guns, and fought out the fight to the last ; with the exception 
of one of them, who was killed at his post by one of his own 
country’s balls. 

At length, having lost her fore and main-top-masts, and 
her mizzen-mast having been shot away to the deck, and her 
fore-yard lying in two pieces on her shattered forecastle, and 
in a hundred places having been hulled with round shot, the 
English frigate was reduced to the last extremity. Captain 
Cardan ordered his signal quarter-master to strike the flag. 

Tawney was one of those who, at last, helped pull him on 


364 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


board the Neversink. As he touched the deck, Cardan sa- 
luted Decatur, the hostile commander, and offered his sword ; 
but it was courteously declined. Perhaps the victor remem- 
bered the dinner parties that he and the Englishman had en- 
joyed together in Norfolk, just previous to the breaking out 
of hostilities — and while both were in command of the very 
frigates now crippled on the sea. The Macedonian, it seems, 
had gone into Norfolk with dispatches. Then they had 
laughed and joked over their wine, and a wager of a beaver 
hat was said to have been made between them upon the 
event of the hostile meeting of their ships. 

Gazing upon the heavy batteries before him, Cardan said 
to Decatur, “ This is a seventy-four, not a frigate; no wonder 
the day is yours !” 

This remark was founded upon the Neversink’s superiority 
in guns. The Neversink’s main-deck-batteries then consist- 
ed, as now, of twenty-four-pounders ; the Macedonian’s of only 
eighteens. In all, the Neversink numbered fifty-four guns 
and four hundred and fifty men ; the Macedonian, forty-nine 
guns and three hundred men ; a very great disparity, which, 
united to the other circumstances of this action, deprives the 
victory of all claims to glory beyond those that might be set 
up by a river-horse getting the better of a seal. 

But if Tawney spoke truth — and he was a truth-telling man 
— this fact seemed counterbalanced by a circumstance he re- 
lated. When the guns of the Englishman were examined, 
after the engagement, in more than one instance the wad was 
found rammed against the cartridge, without intercepting the 
ball. And though, in a frantic sea-fight, such a thing might 
be imputed to hurry and remissness, yet Tawney, a stickler 
for his tribe, always ascribed it to quite a different and less 
honorable cause. But, even granting the cause he assigned 
to have been the true one, it does not involve any thing inim- 
ical to the general valor displayed by the British crew. Yet, 
from all that may be learned from candid persons who have 
been in sea-fights, there can be but little doubt that on board 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


365 


of all ships, of whatever nation, in time of action, no very 
small number of the men are exceedingly nervous, to say the 
least, at the guns ; ramming and sponging at a venture. And 
what special patriotic interest could an impressed man, for 
instance, take in a fight, into which he had been dragged from 
the arms of his wife ? Or is it to he wondered at that im- 
pressed English seamen have not scrupled, in time of war, to 
cripple the arm that has enslaved them ? 

During the same general war which prevailed at and pre- 
vious to the period of the frigate-action here spoken of, a Brit- 
ish flag-officer, in writing to the Admiralty, said, “ Every 
thing appears to he quiet in the fleet ; but, in preparing for 
battle last week, several of the guns in the after part of the 
ship were found to he spiked that is tr say, rendered use- 
less. Who had spiked them ? The dissatisfied seamen. Is 
it altogether improbable, then, that the guns to which Tawney 
referred were manned by men who purposely refrained from 
making them tell on the foe ; that, in this one action, the vic- 
tory America gained was partly won for her by the sulky in- 
subordination of the enemy himself ? 

During this same period of general war, it was frequently 
the case that the guns of English armed ships were found in 
the mornings with their breechings cut over night. This 
maiming of the guns, and for the time incapacitating them, 
was only to be imputed to that secret spirit of hatred to the 
service which induced the spiking above referred to. But 
even in cases where no deep-seated dissatisfaction was pre- 
sumed to prevail among the crew, and where a seaman, in 
time of action, impelled by pure fear, “shirked from his gun 
it seems but flying in the face of Him who made such a sea- 
man what he constitutionally was, to sew coward upon his 
back, and degrade and agonize the already trembling wretch 
in numberless other ways. Nor seems it a practice warrant- 
ed by the Sermon on the Mount, for the officer of a battery, 
in time of battle, to stand over the men with his drawn sword 
(as was done in the Macedonian), and run through on the 


3G6 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


spot the first seaman who showed a semblance of fear. Taw- 
ney told me that he distinctly heard this order given by the 
English Captain to his officers of divisions. Were the secret 
history of all sea-fights written, the laurels of sea-heroes would 
turn to ashes on their brows. 

And how nationally disgraceful, in every conceivable point 
of view, is the IV. of our American Articles of War : “If any 
person in the Navy shall pusillanimously cry for quarter, he 
shall suffer death.” Thus, with death before his face from 
the foe, and death behind his back from his countrymen, the 
best valor of a man-of-war’s-man can never assume the merit 
of a noble spontaneousness. In this, as in every other case, 
the Articles of War hold out no reward for good conduct, but 
only compel the sailor to fight, like a hired murderer, for his 
pay, by digging his grave before his eyes if he hesitates. 

But this Article IV. is open to still graver objections. 
Courage is the most common and vulgar of the virtues ; the 
only one shared with us by the beasts of the field ; the one 
most apt, by excess, to run into viciousness. And since Na 
ture generally takes away with one hand to counterbalance 
her gifts with the other, excessive animal courage, in many 
cases, only finds room in a character vacated of loftier things. 
But in a naval officer, animal courage is exalted to the lofti- 
est merit, and often procures him a distinguished command. 

Hence, if some brainless bravo be Captain of a frigate in 
action, he may fight her against invincible odds, and seek to 
crown himself with the glory of the shambles, by permitting 
his hopeless crew to be butchered before his eyes, while at the 
same time that crew must consent to be slaughtered by the 
foe, under penalty of being murdered by the law. Look at 
the engagement between the American frigate Essex with 
the two English cruisers, the Phoebe and Cherub, off the Bay 
of Valparaiso, during the late war. It is admitted on all 
hands that the American Captain continued to fight his crip- 
pled ship against a greatly superior force ; and when, at last, 
it became physically impossible that he could ever be other- 


THU WOULD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 




wise than vanquished in the end ; and when, from peculiarly 
unfortunate circumstances, his men merely stood up to their 
nearly useless batteries to be dismembered and blown to pieces 
by the incessant fire of the enemy’s long guns. Nor, by thus 
continuing to fight, did this American frigate, one iota, pro- 
mote the true interests of her country. I seek not to under- 
rate any reputation which the American Captain may have 
gained by this battle. He was a brave man ; that no sailor 
will deny. But the whole world is made up of brave men. 
Yet I would not be at all understood as impugning his special 
good name. Nevertheless, it is not to be doubted, that if 
there were any common-sense sailors at the guns of the Es- 
sex, however valiant they may have been, those common-sense 
sailors must have greatly preferred to strike their flag, when 
they saw the day was fairly lost, than postpone that inevita- 
ble act till there were few American arms left to assist in 
hauling it down. Yet had these men, under these circum- 
stances, “ pusillanimously cried for quarter,” by the IV. Arti- 
cle of War they might have been legally hung. 

According to the negro, Tawney, when the Captain of the 
Macedonian — seeing that the Neversink had his vessel com- 
pletely in her power — gave the word to strike the flag, one 
of his officers, a man hated by the seamen for his tyranny, 
howled out the most terrific remonstrances, swearing that, 
for his part, he would not give up, but was for sinking the 
Macedonian alongside the enemy. Had he been Captain, 
doubtless he would have done so ; thereby gaining the name 
of a hero in this world ; — but what would they have called 
him in the next ? 

But as the whole matter of war is a thing that smites com- 
mon sense and Christianity in the face ; so every thing con- 
nected with it is utterly foolish, unchristian, barbarous, brutal, 
and savoring of the Feejee Islands, cannibalism, saltpetre, and 
the devil. 

It is generally the case in a man-of-war when she strikes 
her flag that all discipline is at an end, and the men for a 


368 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


time are ungovernable. This was so on board of the English 
frigate. The spirit-room was broken open, and buckets of 
grog were passed along the decks, where many of the wounded 
were lying between the guns. These mariners seized the 
buckets, and, spite of all remonstrances, gulped down the 
burning spirits, till, as Tawney said, the blood suddenly spirted 
out of their wounds, and they fell dead to the deck. 

The negro had many more stories to tell of this fight ; and 
frequently he would escort me along our main-deck batteries 
— still mounting the same guns used in the battle — pointing 
out their ineffaceable indentations and scars. Coated over 
with the accumulated paint of more than thirty years, they 
were almost invisible to a casual eye ; but Tawney knew them 
all by heart ; for he had returned home in the Neversink, and 
had beheld these scars shortly after the engagement. 

One afternoon, I was walking with him along the gun- 
deck, when he paused abreast of the main-mast. “ This part 
of the ship,” said he, “we called the slaughter-house on board 
the Macedonian. Here the men fell, five and six at a time. 
An enemy always directs its shot here, in order to hurl over 
the mast, if possible. The beams and carlines overhead in 
the Macedonian slaughter-house were spattered with blood 
and brains. About the hatchways it looked like a butcher’s 
stall ; bits of human flesh sticking in the ring-bolts. A pig 
that ran about the decks escaped unharmed, but his hide was 
so clotted with blood, from rooting among the pools of gore, 
that when the ship struck the sailors hove the animal over- 
board, swearing that it would be rank cannibalism to eat 
him.” 

Another quadruped, a goat, lost its fore legs in this fight. 

The sailors who were killed — according to the usual cus- 
tom — were ordered to be thrown overboard as soon as they 
fell ; no doubt, as the negro said, that the sight of so many 
corpses lying around might not appall the survivors at the 
guns. Among other instances, he related the following. A 
shot entering one of the port-holes, dashed dead two thirds of 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


369 


a gun’s crew. The captain of the next gun, dropping his 
lock-string, which he had just pulled, turned over the heap of 
bodies to see who they were ; when, perceiving an old mess- 
mate, who had sailed with him in many cruises, he burst into 
tears, and, taking the corpse up in his arms, and going with 
it to the side, held it over the water a moment, and eying it, 
cried, “ Oh God ! Tom !” — “ D — n your prayers over that 
thing ! overboard with it, and down to your gun !” roared a 
wounded Lieutenant. The order was obeyed, and the heart- 
stricken sailor returned to his post. 

Tawney’s recitals were enough to snap this man-of-war 
world’s sword in its scabbard. And thinking of all the cruel 
carnal glory wrought out by naval heroes in scenes like these, 
I asked myself whether, indeed, that was a glorious coffin in 
which Lord Nelson was entombed — a coffin presented to him, 
during life, by Captain Hallo well ; it had been dug out of the 
main-mast of the French line-of-battle ship L’Orient, which, 
burning up with British fire, destroyed hundreds of French- 
men at the battle of the Nile. 

Peace to Lord Nelson where he sleeps in his moldering 
mast ! but rather would I be urned in the trunk of some green 
tree, and even in death have the vital sap circulating round 
me, giving of my dead body to the living foliage that shaded 
my peaceful tomb. 

Q* 


CHAPTER LXXV. 


“ SINK, BURN, AND DESTROY.” 

Printed Admiralty orders in time of war. 

Among innumerable “ yarns and twister s” reeled off in our 
main-top during our pleasant run to the North, none could 
match those of Jack Chase, our captain. 

Never was there better company than ever-glorious Jack. 
The things which most men only read of, or dream about, he 
had seen and experienced. He had been a dashing smuggler 
in his day, and could tell of a long nine-pounder rammed home 
with wads of French silks ; of cartridges stuffed with the fin- 
est gunpowder tea ; of cannister-shot full of West India sweet- 
meats ; of sailor frocks and trowsers, quilted inside with costly 
laces ; and table legs, hollow as musket barrels, compactly 
stowed with rare drugs and spices. He could tell of a wicked 
widow, too — a beautiful receiver of smuggled goods upon the 
English coast — who smiled so sweetly upon the smugglers 
when they sold her silks and laces, cheap as tape and ging- 
hams. She called them gallant fellows, hearts of game ; and 
bade them bring her more. 

He could tell of desperate fights with his British majesty’s 
cutters, in midnight coves upon a stormy coast ; of the capture 
of a reckless band, and their being drafted on board a man-of- 
war ; of their swearing that their chief was slain ; of a writ 
of habeas corpus sent on board for one of them for a debt — a 
reserved and handsome man — and his going ashore, strongly 
suspected of being the slaughtered captain, and this a success- 
ful scheme for his escape. 

But more than all, Jack could tell of the battle of Navarino, 
for he had been a captain of one of the main-deck guns on 
board Admiral Codrington’s flag-ship, the Asia. Were mine 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


371 


the style of stout old Chapman’s Horner, even then I would 
scarce venture to give noble Jack’s own version of this fight, 
wherein, on the 20th of October, A.D. 1827, thirty-two sail 
of Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Russians, attacked and van- 
quished in the Levant an Ottoman fleet of three ships-of-the 
line, twenty-five frigates, and a swarm of fire ships and hornet 
craft. 

“We bayed to be at them,” said Jack; “and when we 
did open fire, we were like dolphin among the flying-fish. 
‘ Every man take his bird’ was the cry, when we trained our 
guns. And those guns all smoked like rows of Dutch pipe- 
bowls, my hearties ! My gun’s crew carried small flags in 
their bosoms, to nail to the mast in case the ship’s colors were 
shot away. Stripped to the waistbands, we fought like skinned 
tigers, and bowled down the Turkish frigates like nine-pins. 
Among their shrouds — swarming thick with small-arm men, 
like flights of pigeons lighted on pine-trees — our marines sent 
their leaden pease and gooseberries, like a shower of hail-stones 
in Labrador. It was a stormy time, my hearties ! The 
blasted Turks pitched into the old Asia’s hull a whole quarry 
of marble shot, each ball one hundred and fifty pounds. They 
knocked three port-holes into one. But we gave them better 
than they sent. ‘ Up and at them, my bull-dog !’ said I, 
patting my gun on the breech ; * tear open hatchways in their 
Moslem sides !’ White- Jacket, my lad, you ought to have 
been there. The bay was covered with masts and yards, as 
I have seen a raft of snags in the Arkansas River. Showers 
of burned rice and olives from the exploding foe fell upon us 
like manna in the wilderness. ‘ Allah ! Allah! Mohammed ! 
Mohammed /’ split the air ; some cried it out from the Turk- 
ish port-holes ; other shrieked it forth from the drowning wa- 
ters, their top-knots floating on their shaven skulls, like black- 
snakes on half-tide rocks. By those top-knots they believed 
that their Prophet would drag them up to Paradise, but they 
sank fifty fathoms, my hearties, to the bottom of the bay. 
‘ Ain’t the bloody ’Hometons going to strike yet ?’ cried my 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


372 


first loader, a Guernsey man, thrusting his neck out of the 
port-hole, and looking at the Turkish line-of-battle ship near 
by. That instant his head blew by me like a bursting Paix- 
han shot, and the flag of Ned Knowles himself was hauled 
down forever. We dragged his hull to one side, and avenged 
him with the cooper’s anvil, which, endways, we rammed 
home ; a mess-mate shoved in the dead man’s bloody Scotch 
cap for the wad, and sent it flying into the line-of-battle ship. 
By the god of war ! boys, we hardly left enough of that craft 
to boil a pot of water with. It was a hard day’s work — a 
sad day’s work, my hearties. That night, when all was over, 
I slept sound enough, with a box of cannister shot for my 
pillow ! But you ought to have seen the boat-load of Turk- 
ish flags one of our captains carried home ; he swore to dress 
his father’s orchard in colors with them, just as our spars are 
dressed for a gala day.” 

“ Though you tormented the Turks at Navarino, noble 
J ack, yet you came off yourself with only the loss of a splinter, 
it seems,” said a top-man, glancing at our captain’s maimed 
hand. 

“ Yes ; but I and one of the Lieutenants had a narrower 
escape than that. A shot struck the side of my port-hole, 
and sent the splinters right and left. One took off my hat 
rim clean to my brow ; another razeed the Lieutenant’s left 
boot, by slicing off the heel ; a third shot killed my powder- 
monkey without touching him.” 

“ How, Jack ?” 

“ It ichizzed the poor babe dead. He was seated on a 
cheese of toads at the time, and after the dust of the powdered 
bulwarks had blown away, I noticed he yet sat still, his eyes 
wide open. J My little hero V cried I, and I clapped him on 
the back ; but he fell on his face at my feet. I touched his 
heart, and found he was dead. There was not a little finger 
mark on him.” 

Silence now fell upon the listeners for a time, broken at 
last by the Second Captain of the Top. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


373 


“ Noble Jack, I know you never brag, but tell us what you 
did yourself that day ?” 

“ Why, my hearties, I did not do quite as much as my 
gun. But I flatter myself it was that gun that brought 
down the Turkish Admiral’s main-mast ; and the stump left 
wasn’t long enough to make a wooden leg for Lord Nelson.” 

“ How ? but I thought, by the way you pull a lock-string 
on board here, and look along the sight, that you can steer a 
shot about right — hey, Jack V’ 

“ It was the Admiral of the Fleet — God Almighty — who 
directed the shot that dismasted the Turkish Admiral,” said 
Jack ; “ I only pointed the gun.” 

“ But how did you feel, Jack, when the musket-ball car- 
ried away one of your hooks there V’ 

“ Feel ! only a finger the lighter. I have seven more left, 
besides thumbs ; and they did good service, too, in the torn 
rigging the day after the fight ; for you must know, my hear- 
ties, that the hardest work comes after the guns are run in. 
Three days I helped work, with one hand, in the rigging, in 
the same trowsers that I wore in the action ; the blood had 
dried and stiffened ; they looked like glazed red morocco.” 

Now, this Jack Chase had a heart in him like a masto- 
don’s. I have seen him weep when a man has been flogged 
at the gangway ; yet, in relating the story of the Battle of 
Navarino, he plainly showed that he held the God of the 
blessed Bible to have been the British Commodore in the 
Levant, on the bloody 20th of October, A.D. 1827. And 
thus it would seem that war almost makes blasphemers of 
the best of men, and brings them all down to the Feejee 
standard of humanity. Some man-of-war’s-men have con- 
fessed to me, that as a battle has raged more and more, their 
hearts have hardened in infernal harmony ; and, like their 
own guns, they have fought without a thought. 

Soldier or sailor, the fighting man is but a fiend ; and the 
staff and body-guard of the Devil musters many a baton. 
But war at times is inevitable. Must the national honor be 
trampled under foot by an insolent foe ? 


374 


WHITE-JACKET. 


* 


Say on, say on ; but know you this, and lay it to heart, 
war- voting Bench of Bishops, that He on whom we believe 
himself has enjoined us to turn the left cheek if the right be 
smitten. Never mind what follows. That passage you can 
not expunge from the Bible : that passage is as binding upon 
us as any other ; that passage embodies the soul and sub- 
stance of the Christian faith ; without it, Christianity were 
like any other faith. And that passage will yet, by the 
blessing of God, turn the world. But in some things we 
must turn Quakers first. 

But though unlike most scenes of carnage, which have 
proved useless murders of men, Admiral Codrington’s victory 
undoubtedly achieved the emancipation of Greece, and term- 
inated the Turkish atrocities in that tomahawked state, yet 
who shall lift his hand and swear that a Divine Providence 
led the van of the combined fleets of England, France, and 
Russia at the battle of Navarino ? For if this be so, then it 
led the van against the Church’s own elect — the persecuted 
Waldenses in Switzerland — and kindled the Smithfield fires 
in bloody Mary’s time. 

But all events are mixed in a fusion indistinguishable. 
What we call Fate is even, heartless, and impartial ; not a 
fiend to kindle bigot flames, nor a philanthropist to espouse 
the cause of Greece. We may fret, fume, and fight ; but 
the thing called Fate everlastingly sustains an armed neu- 
trality. 

Yet though all this be so, nevertheless, in our own hearts, we 
mold the whole world’s hereafters ; and in our own hearts we 
fashion our own gods. Each mortal casts his vote for whom 
he will to rule the worlds ; I have a voice that helps to shape 
eternity ; and my volitions stir the orbits of the furthest suns. 
In two senses, we are precisely what we worship. Ourselves 
are Fate. 


CHAPTER LXXVI. 


THE CHAINS. 

When wearied with the tumult and occasional contention 
of the gun-deck of our frigate, I have often retreated to a port- 
hole, and calmed myself down by gazing broad off upon a 
placid sea. After the battle-din of the last two chapters, let 
us now do the like, and, in the sequestered fore-chains of the 
Neversink, tranquillize ourselves, if we may. 

Notwithstanding the domestic communism to which the 
seamen in a man-of-war are condemned, and the publicity in 
which actions the most diffident and retiring in their nature 
must be performed, there is yet an odd comer or two where 
you may sometimes steal away, and, for a few moments, al- 
most be private. 

Chief among these places is the chains, to which I would 
sometimes hie during pur pleasant homeward-bound glide 
over those pensive tropical latitudes. After hearing my fill 
of the wild yarns of our top, here would I recline — if not dis- 
turbed — serenely concocting information into wisdom. 

The chains designates the small platform outside of the 
hull, at the base of the large shrouds leading down from the 
three mast-heads to the bulwarks. At present they seem to 
be getting out of vogue among merchant- vessels, along with 
the fine, old-fashioned quarter-galleries, little turret-like ap- 
purtenances, which, in the days of the old Admirals, set off 
the angles of an armed ship’s stern. Here a naval officer 
might lounge away an hour after action, smoking a cigar, to 
drive out of his whiskers the villainous smoke of the gunpow- 
der. The picturesque, delightful stern-gallery, also, a broad 
balcony overhanging the sea, and entered from the Captain’s 
cabin, much as you might enter a bower from a lady’s cham- 


376 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


her ; this charming balcony, where, sailing over summer seas 
in the days of the old Peruvian viceroys, the Spanish cavalier 
Mendanna, of Lima, made love to the Lady Isabella, as they 
voyaged in quest of the Solomon Islands, the fabulous Ophir, 
the Grand Cyclades ; and the Lady Isabella, at sunset, blush- 
ed like the Orient, and gazed down to the gold-fish and silver- 
hued flying-fish, that wove the woop and warf of their wakes 
in bright, scaly tartans and plaids underneath where the Lady 
reclined ; this charming balcony — exquisite retreat — has been 
cut away by Vandalic innovations. Ay, that claw-footed old 
gallery is no longer in fashion ; in Commodore’s eyes, is no 
longer genteel. 

Out on all furniture fashions hut those that are past ! Give 
me my grandfather’s old arm-chair, planted upon four carved 
frogs, as the Hindoos fabled the world to he supported upon 
four tortoises ; give me his cane, with the gold-loaded top — a 
cane that, like the musket of General Washington’s father 
and the hroad-sword of William Wallace, would break down 
the back of the switch-carrying dandies of these spindle-shank 
days ; give me his broad-breasted vest, coming bravely down 
over the hips, and furnished with two strong-boxes of pockets 
to keep guineas in ; toss this toppling cylinder of a heaver 
overboard, and give me my grandfather’s gallant, gable-ended, 
cocked hat. 

But though the quarter-galleries and the stern-gallery of a 
man-of-war are departed, yet the chains still linger ; nor can 
there he imagined a more agreeable retreat. The huge blocks 
and lanyards forming the pedestals of the shrouds divide the 
chains into numerous little chapels, alcoves, niches, and altars, 
where you lazily lounge — outside of the ship, though on hoard. 
But there are plenty to divide a good thing with you in this 
man-of-war world. Often, when snugly seated in one of these 
little alcoves, gazing off to the horizon, and thinking of Ca- 
thay, I have been startled from my repose by some old quar- 
ter-gunner, who, having newly painted a parcel of match-tubs, 
wanted to set them to dry. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


37/ 


At other times, one of the tattooing artists would crawl over 
the bulwarks, followed by his sitter ; and then a bare arm or 
leg would be extended, and the disagreeable business of “prick- 
ing” commence, right under my eyes ; or an irruption of tars, 
with ditty-bags or sea-reticules, and piles of old trowsers to 
mend, would break in upon my seclusion, and, forming a sew- 
ing-circle, drive me off with their chatter. 

But once — it was a Sunday afternoon — I was pleasantly 
reclining in a particularly shady and secluded little niche be- 
tween two lanyards, when I heard a low, supplicating voice. 
Peeping through the narrow space between the ropes, I per- 
ceived an aged seaman on his knees, his face turned seaward, 
with closed eyes, buried in prayer. Softly rising, I stole 
through a port-hole, and left the venerable worshiper alone. 

He was a sheet-anchor-man, an earnest Baptist, and was 
well known, in his own part of the ship, to he constant in his 
solitary devotions in the chains. He reminded me of St. An- 
thony going out into the wilderness to pray. 

This man was captain of the starboard how-chaser, on*3 of 
the two long twenty-four-pounders on the forecastle. In time 
of action, the command of that iron Thalaba the Destroyer 
would devolve upon him. It would he his business to “ train” 
it properly ; to see it well loaded ; the grape and cannister 
rammed home ; also, to “ prick the cartridge,” “ take the 
sight,” and give the word for the match-man to apply his 
wand ; bidding a sudden hell to flash forth from the muzzle, 
in wide combustion and death. 

Now, this captain of the how-chaser was an upright old 
man, a sincere, humble believer, and he but earned his bread 
in being captain of that gun ; but how, with those hands of 
his begrimed with powder, could he break that other and 
most peaceful and penitent bread of the Supper ? though in 
that hallowed sacrament, it seemed, he had often partaken 
ashore. The omission of this rite in a man-of-war — though 
there is a chaplain to preside over it, and at least a few com- 
municants to partake — must be ascribed to a sense of religious 
propriety, in the last degree to be commended. 


378 


WHITE-JACKET. 


Ah ! the best righteousness of our man-of-war world seems 
but an unrealized ideal, after all ; and those maxims which, 
in the hope of bringing about a Millennium, we busily teach 
to the heathen, we Christians ourselves disregard. In view 
of the whole present social frame-work of our world, so ill 
adapted to the practical adoption of the meekness of Chris- 
tianity, there seems almost some ground for the thought, that 
although our blessed Savior was full of the wisdom of heaven, 
yet his gospel seems lacking in the practical wisdom of earth 
— in a due appreciation of the necessities of nations at times 
demanding bloody massacres and wars ; in a proper estima- 
tion of the value of rank, title, and money. But all this only 
the more crowns the divine consistency of Jesus ; since Bur- 
net and the best theologians demonstrate, that his nature was 
not merely human — was not that of a mere man of the world. 


\. 


I 


CHAPTER L XXVII. 

THE HOSPITAL IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

After, running with a fine steady breeze up to the Line, it 
fell calm, and there we lay, three days enchanted on the sea. 
We were a most puissant man-of-war, no doubt, with our five 
hundred men, Commodore and Captain, backed by our long 
batteries of thirty-two and twenty-four pounders ; yet, for all 
that, there we lay rocking, helpless as an infant in the cradle. 
Had it only been a gale instead of a calm, gladly would we 
have charged upon it with our gallant bowsprit, as with a 
stout lance in rest ; but, as with mankind, this serene, passive 
foe — unresisting and irresistible — lived it out, unconquered to 
the last. 

All these three days the heat was excessive ; the sun drew 
the tar from the seams of the ship ; the awnings were spread 
fore and aft ; the decks were kept constantly sprinkled with 
water. It was during this period that a sad event occurred, 
though not an unusual one on shipboard. But in order to 
prepare for its narration, some account of a part of the ship 
called the “ sick-bay ” must needs be presented. 

The sick-bay is that part of a man-of-war where the inva- 
lid seamen are placed ; in many respects it answers to a pub- 
lic hospital ashore. As with most frigates, the sick-bay of 
the Neversink was on the berth-deck — the third deck from 
above. It was in the extreme forward part of that deck, em- 
bracing the triangular area in the bows of the ship. It was, 
therefore, a subterranean vault, into which scarce a ray of 
heaven’s glad light ever penetrated, even at noon. 

In a sea-going frigate that has all her armament and stores 
on board, the floor of the berth-deck is partly below the sur- 
face of the water. But in a smooth harbor, some circula- 


380 


WHITE-JACKET; OK, 


tion of air is maintained by opening large auger-holes in the 
upper portion of the sides, called “ air-ports,” not much above 
the water level. Before going to sea, however, these air- 
ports must be closed, caulked, and the seams hermetically 
sealed with pitch. These places for ventilation being shut, 
the sick-bay is entirely barred against the free, natural ad- 
#mission of fresh air. In the Neversink, a few lungsful were 
forced down by artificial means. But as the ordinary wrind- 
sail was the only method adopted, the quantity of fresh air 
sent down was regulated by the force of the wind. In a 
calm there was none to be had, while in a severe gale the 
wind-sail had to be hauled up, on account of the violent 
draught flowing full upon the cots of the sick. An open- 
work partition divided our sick-bay from the rest of the deck, 
where the hammocks of the watch were slung ; it, therefore, 
was exposed to all the uproar that ensued upon the watches 
being relieved. 

An official, called the surgeon’s steward, assisted by subor- 
dinates, presided over the place. He was the same individual 
alluded to as officiating at the amputation of the top-man. 
He was always to be found at his post, by night and by day. 

This burgeon’s steward deserves a description. He was a 
small, pale, hollow-eyed young man, with that peculiar Laza- 
rus-like expression so often noticed in hospital attendants. 
Seldom or never did you see him on deck, and when he did 
emerge into the light of the sun, it was with an abashed look, 
and an uneasy, winking eye. The sun was not made for him. 
His nervous organization was confounded by the sight of the 
robust old sea-dogs on the forecastle and the general tumult 
of the spar-deck, and he mostly buried himself below in an at- 
mosphere which long habit had made congenial. 

This young man never indulged in frivolous conversation ; 
he only talked of the surgeon’s prescriptions ; his every word 
was a bolus. He never was known to smile ; nor did he even 
look sober in the ordinary way ; but his countenance ever wore 
an aspect of cadaverous resignation to his fate. Strange ! that 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


381 


so many of those who would fain minister to our own health 
should look so much like invalids themselves. 

Connected with the sick-bay, over which the surgeon’s 
steward presided — but removed from it in place, being next 
door to the counting-room of the purser’s steward — was a reg- 
ular apothecary’s shop, of which he kept the key. It was 
fitted up precisely like an apothecary’s on shore, displaying 
tiers of shelves on all four sides filled with green bottles and 
gallipots ; beneath were multitudinous drawers, bearing in- 
comprehensible gilded inscriptions in abbreviated Latin. 

He generally opened his shop for an hour or two every 
morning and evening. There was a Venetian blind in the 
upper part of the door, which he threw up when inside, so as 
to admit a little air. And there you would see him, with a 
green shade over his eyes, seated on a stool, and pounding his 
pestle in a great iron mortar that looked like a howitzer, mix- 
ing some jallapy compound. A smoky lamp shed a flickering, 
yellow-fever tinge upon his pallid face and the closely-packed 
regiments of gallipots. 

Several times when I felt in need of a little medicine, but 
was not ill enough to report myself to the surgeon at his 
levees, I would call of a morning upon his steward at the Sign 
of the Mortar, and beg him to give me what I wanted ; when, 
without speaking a w’ord, this cadaverous young man would 
mix me my potion in a tin cup, and hand it out through the 
little opening in his door, like the boxed-up treasurer giving 
you your change at the ticket-office of a theatre. 

But there was a little shelf against the wall of the door, 
and upon this I would set the tin cup for a while, and survey 
it ; for I never was a Julius Ceesar at taking medicine ; and 
to take it in this way, without a single attempt at disguising 
it ; with no counteracting little morsel to hurry down after it ; 
in short, to go to the very apothecary’s in person, and there, 
at the counter, swallow down your dose, as if it were a nice 
mint-julep taken at the bar of a hotel — this was a bitter bolus 
indeed. But, then, this pallid young apothecary charged noth- 


382 


WHITE-JACKET; OK, 


ing for it, and that was no small satisfaction ; for is it not re- 
markable, to say the least, that a shore apothecary should 
actually charge you money — round dollars and cents — for giv- 
ing you a horrible nausea ? 

My tin cup would wait a long time on that little shelf; yet 
“ Pills,” as the sailors called him, never heeded my lingering, 
but in sober, silent sadness continued pounding his mortar or 
folding up his powders; until at last some other customer 
would appear, and then, in a sudden frenzy of resolution#! 
would gulp down my sherry-cobbler, and carry its unspeakable 
flavor with me far up into the frigate’s main-top. I do not 
know whether it was the wide roll of the ship, as felt in that 
giddy perch, that occasioned it, but I always got sea-sick after 
taking medicine and going aloft with it. Seldom or never did 
it do me any lasting good. 

Now the Surgeon’s Steward was only a subordinate of Sur- 
geon Cuticle himself, who lived in the ward-room among the 
Lieutenants, Sailing-master, Chaplain, and Purser. 

The Surgeon is, by law, charged with the business of over- 
looking the general sanitary affairs of the ship. If any thing 
is going on in any of its departments which he judges to be 
detrimental to the healthfulness of the crew, he has a right to 
protest against it formally to the Captain. When a man is 
being scourged at the gangway, the Surgeon stands by ; and 
if he thinks that the punishment is becoming more than the 
culprit’s constitution can well bear, he has a right to interfere 
and demand its cessation for the time. 

But though the Navy regulations nominally vest him with 
this high discretionary authority over the very Commodore 
himself, how seldom does he exercise it in cases where human- 
ity demands it ? Three years is a long time to spend in one 
ship, and to be at swords’ points with its Captain and Lieu- 
tenants during such a period, must be very unsocial and every 
way irksome. No otherwise than thus, at least, can the re- 
missness of some surgeons in remonstrating against cruelty be 
accounted for. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


383 


Not to speak again of the continual dampness of the decks 
consequent upon flooding them with salt water, when we 
were driving near to Cape Horn, it needs only to he mentioned 
that, on hoard of the Neversink, men known to be in con- 
sumptions gasped under the scourge of the boatswain’s mate, 
when the Surgeon and his two attendants stood by and never 
interposed. But where the unscrupulousness of martial disci- 
pline is maintained, it is in vain to attempt softening its rigor 
by the ordaining of humanitarian laws. Sooner might you 
tame the grizzly hear of Missouri than humanize a thing so 
essentially cruel and heartless. 

But the Surgeon has yet other duties to perform. Not a 
seaman enters the Navy without undergoing a corporal ex- 
amination, to test his soundness in wind and limb. 

One of the first places into which I was introduced when I 
first entered on board the Neversink was the sick-bay, where 
I found one of the Assistant Surgeons seated at a green-haize 
table. It was his turn for visiting the apartment. Having 
been commanded by the deck officer to report my business to 
the functionary before me, I accordingly hemmed, to attract 
his attention, and then catching his eye, politely intimated 
that I called upon him for the purpose of being accurately 
laid out and surveyed. 

“ Strip !” was the answer, and, rolling up his gold-laced 
cuff, he proceeded to manipulate me. He punched me in the 
ribs, smote me across the chest, commanded me to stand on 
one leg and hold out the other horizontally. He asked me 
whether any of my family were consumptive ; whether I ever 
felt a tendency to a rush of blood to the head ; whether I was 
gouty ; how often I had been bled during my life ; how long 
I had been ashore ; how long I had been afloat ; with several 
other questions which have altogether slipped my memory. 
He concluded his interrogatories with this extraordinary and 
unwarranted one — “Are you pious ?” 

It was a leading question which somewhat staggered 
me, hut I said not a word ; when, feeling of my calves, he 


384 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


looked up and incomprehensibly said, “ I am afraid you are 
not.” 

At length he declared me a sound animal, and wrote a cer- 
tificate to that effect, with which I returned to the deck. 

This Assistant Surgeon turned out to he a very singular 
character, and when I became more acquainted with him, I 
ceased to marvel at the curious question with which he had 
concluded his examination of my person. 

He was a thin, knock-kneed man, with a sour, saturnine 
expression, rendered the more peculiar from his shaving his 
heard so remorselessly, that his chin and cheeks always look- 
ed blue, as if pinched with cold. His long familiarity with 
nautical invalids seemed to have filled him full of theolog- 
ical hypoes concerning the state of their souls. He was at 
once the physician and priest of the sick, washing down his 
boluses with ghostly consolation, and among the sailors went 
by the name of The Pelican, a fowl whose hanging pouch im- 
parts to it a most chop-fallen, lugubrious expression. 

The privilege of going off duty and lying by when you are 
sick, is one of the few points in which a man-of-war is far 
better for the sailor than a merchantman. But, as with 
every other matter in the Navy, the whole thing is subject to 
the general discipline of the vessel, and is conducted with a 
severe, unyielding method and regularity, making no allow- 
ances for exceptions to rules. 

During the half hour preceding morning quarters, the Sur- 
geon of a frigate is to be found in the sick-bay, where, after 
going his rounds among the invalids, he holds a levee for the 
benefit of all new candidates for the sick-list. If, after look- 
ing at your tongue, and feeling of your pulse, he pronounces 
you a proper candidate, his secretary puts you down on his 
books, and you are thenceforth relieved from all duty, and 
have abundant leisure in which to recover your health. Let 
the boatswain blow ; let the deck officer bellow ; let the cap- 
tain of your gun hunt you up ; yet, if it can be answered by 
your mess-mates that you are “ down on the list” you ride it 


T H E WORLD IN A M A N-0 F-W A R. 


385 


all out with impunity. The Commodore himself has then no 
authority over you. But you must not be too much elated, for 
your immunities are only secure while you are immured in the 
dark hospital below. Should you venture to get a mouthful of 
fresh air on the spar-deck, and be there discovered by an offi- 
cer, you will in vain plead your illness ; for it is quite impossi- 
ble, it seems, that any true man-of-war invalid can be hearty 
enough to crawl up the ladders. Besides, the raw sea air, as 
they will tell you, is not good for the sick. 

But, notwithstanding all this, notwithstanding the darkness 
and closeness of the Sick-bay, in which an alleged invalid must 
be content to shut himself up till the Surgeon pronounces him 
cured, many instances occur, especially in protracted bad 
weather, where pretended invalids will submit to this dismal 
hospital durance, in order to escape hard work and wet jackets. 

There is a story told somewhere of the Devil taking down 
the confessions of a woman on a strip of parchment, and being 
obliged to stretch it longer and longer with his teeth, in order 
to find room for ail the lady had to say. Much thus was it 
with our Purser’s Steward, who had to lengthen out his man- 
uscript Sick-list, in order to accommodate all 'the names which 
were presented to him while we were off the pitch of Cape 
Horn. What sailors call the “ Cape Horn Fever” alarm- 
ingly prevailed ; though it disappeared altogether when we 
got into fine weather, which, as with many other invalids, 
was solely to be imputed to the wonder-working effects of an 
entire change of climate. 

It seems very strange, but it is really true, that off Cape 
Horn some “ sogers” of sailors will stand cupping, and bleed- 
ing, and blistering, before they will budge. On the other hand, 
there are cases where a man actually sick and in need of med- 
icine will refuse to go on the Sick-list, because in that case 
his allowance of grog must be stopped. 

On board of every American man-of-war, bound for sea, 
there is a goodly supply of wines and various delicacies put on 
board — according to law — for the benefit of the sick, whether 

Pv 


386 


WHITE-JACKET. 


officers or sailors. And one of the chicken-coops is always re- 
served for the Government chickens, destined for a similar 
purpose. But, on hoard of the Neversink, the only delicacies 
given to invalid sailors was a little sago or arrow-root, and 
they did not get that unless severely ill ; but, so far as I could 
learn, no wine, in any quantity, was ever prescribed for them, 
though the Government bottles often went into the Ward- 
room, for the benefit of indisposed officers. 

And though the Government chicken-coop was replenished 
at every port, yet not four pair of drum-sticks were ever boiled 
into broth for sick sailors. Where the chickens went, some 
one must have known ; but, as I can not vouch for it myself, 
I will not here back the hardy assertion of the men, which 
was that the pious Pelican — true to his name — was extreme- 
ly fond of poultry. I am the still less disposed to believe this 
scandal, from the continued leanness of the Pelican, which 
could hardly have been the case did he nourish himself by so 
nutritious a dish as the drum-sticks of fowls, a diet prescribed 
to pugilists in training. But who can avoid being suspicious 
of a very suspicious person ? Pelican ! I rather suspect you 
still. 


CHAPTER LXXYIII. 


DISMAL TIMES IN THE MESS. 

It was on the first day of the long, hot calm which we had 
on the Equator, that a mess-mate of mine, by the name of 
Shenly, who had been for some weeks complaining, at length 
went on the Sick-list. 

An old gunner’s mate of the mess — Priming, the man 
with the hare-lip, who, true to his tribe, was charged to the 
muzzle with bile, and, moreover, rammed home on top of it 
a wad of sailor superstition — this gunner’s mate indulged in 
some gloomy and savage remarks — strangely tinged with gen- 
uine feeling and grief — at the announcement of the sickness 
of Shenly, coming as it did not long after the almost fatal ac- 
cident befalling poor Baldy, captain of the mizzen-top, another 
mess-mate of ours, and the dreadful fate of the amputated 
fore-top-man whom we buried in Rio, also our mess-mate. 

We were cross-legged seated at dinner, between the guns, 
when the sad news concerning Shenly was first communi- 
cated. 

“ I know’d it, I know’d it,” said Priming, through his nose. 
“ Blast ye, I told ye so ; poor fellow ! But dam’me, I know’d 
it. This comes of having thirteen in the mess. I hope he 
arn’t dangerous; men ? Poor Shenly ! But, blast it, it warn’t 
till White- Jacket there corned into the mess that these here 
things began. I don’t believe there’ll be more nor three of 
us left by the time we strike soundings, men. But how is he 
now ? Have you been down to see him, any on ye ? Damn 
you, you Jonah ! I don’t see how you can sleep in your ham- 
mock, knowing as you do that by making an odd number in 
the mess you have been the death of one poor fellow, and 


388 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ruined Baldy for life, and here’s poor Shenly keeled up. Blast 
you, and your jacket, say I.” 

“ My dear mess-mate,” I cried, “ don’t blast me any more, 
for Heaven’s sake. Blast my jacket you may, and I’ll join 
you in that ; but don’t blast me ; for if you do, I shouldn’t 
wonder if I myself was the next man to keel up.” 

“ Gunner’s mate !” said Jack Chase, helping himself to a 
slice of beef, and sandwiching it between two large biscuits — 
“ Gunner’s mate ! White- Jacket there is my particular friend, 
and I would take it as a particular favor if you would knock 
off blasting him. It’s in bad taste, rude, and unworthy a 
gentleman.” 

“ Take your back away from that ’ere gun-carriage, will 
ye now, Jack Chase ?” cried Priming, in reply, just then Jack 
happening to lean up against it. “ Must I be all the time 
cleaning after you fellows ? Blast ye ! I spent an hour on 
that ’ere gun-carriage this very mornin’. But it all comes of 
White- Jacket there. If it wam’t for having one too many, 
there wouldn’t be any crowding and jamming in the mess. 
I’m blessed if we ar’n’t about chock a’ block here ! Move 
further up there, I’m sitting on my leg !” 

“ For God’s sake, gunner’s mate,” cried I, “ if it will con- 
tent you, I and my jacket will leave the mess.” 

“ I wish you would, and be to you !” he replied. 

“ And if he does, you will mess alone, gunner’s mate,” said 
Jack Chase. 

“ That you will,” cried all. 

“And I wish to the Lord you’d let me !” growled Prim- 
ing, irritably rubbing his head with the handle of his sheath- 
knife. 

“ You are an old bear, gunner’s mate,” said Jack Chase. 

“I am an old Turk,” he replied, drawing the flat blade of 
his knife between his teeth, thereby producing a whetting, 
grating sound. 

“Let him alone, let him alone, men,” said Jack Chase. 
“ Only keep off the tail of a rattlesnake, and he’ll not rattle.” 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


389 


“ Look out he don’t bite, though,” said Priming, snapping 
his teeth ; and with that he rolled off, growling as he went. 

Though I did my best to carry off my vexation with an air 
of indifference, need I say how I cursed my jacket, that it thus 
seemed the means of fastening on me the murder of one of my 
shipmates, and the probable murder of two more. For, had 
it not been for my jacket, doubtless, I had yet been a member 
of my old mess, and so have escaped making the luckless odd 
number among my present companions. 

All X could say in private to Priming had no effect ; though 
I often took him aside, to convince him of the philosophical 
impossibility of my having been accessary to the misfortunes 
of Baldy, the buried sailor in Rio, and Shenly. But Priming 
knew better ; nothing could move him ; and he ever after- 
ward eyed me as virtuous citizens do some notorious under- 
hand villain going unhung of justice. 

Jacket ! jacket ! thou hast much to answer for, jacket ! 


CHAPTER LXXIX. 

HOW MAN-OF-WAB,’ S-MEN DIE AT SEA. 

Shenly, my sick mess-mate, was a middle-aged, handsome, 
intelligent seaman, whom some hard calamity, or perhaps 
some unfortunate excess, must have driven into the Navy. 
He told me he had a wife and two children in Portsmouth, 
in the state of New Hampshire. Upon being examined by 
Cuticle, the surgeon, he was, on purely scientific grounds, 
reprimanded by that functionary for not having previously 
appeared before him. He was immediately consigned to one 
of the invalid cots as a serious case. His complaint was of 
long standing ; a pulmonary one, now attended with general 
prostration. 

The same evening he grew so much worse, that, according 
to man-of-war usage, we, his mess-mates, were officially no- 
tified that we must take turns at sitting up with him through 
the night. We at once made our arrangements, allotting 
two hours for a watch. Not till the third night did my own 
turn come round. During the day preceding, it was stated 
at the mess that our poor mess-mate was run down com- 
pletely ; the surgeon had given him up. 

At four bells (two o’clock in the morning), I went down to 
relieve one of my mess-mates at the sick man’s cot. The 
profound quietude of the calm pervaded the entire frigate 
through all her decks. The watch on duty were dozing on 
the carronade-slides, far above the sick-bay ; and the watch 
below were fast asleep in their hammocks, on the same deck 
with the invalid. 

Groping my way under these two hundred sleepers, I en- 
tered the hospital. A dim lamp was burning on the table, 


T H E W O RLD IN A M A N-0 F-W A R. 


391 


which was screwed down to the floor. This light shed dreary 
shadows over the white- washed walls of the place, making it 
look like a whited sepulchre under ground. The wind-sail 
had collapsed, and lay motionless on the deck. The low 
groans of the sick were the only sounds to be heard ; and as 
I advanced, some of them rolled upon me their sleepless, si- 
lent, tormented eyes. 

“ Fan him, and keep his forehead wet with this sponge,” 
whispered my mess-mate, whom I came to relieve, as I drew 
near to Shenly’s cot, “ and wash the foam from his mouth ; 
nothing more can be done for him. If he dies before your 
watch is out, call the Surgeon’s steward ; he sleeps in that 
hammock,” pointing it out. “ Good-by, good-by, mess-mate,” 
he then whispered, stooping over the sick man ; and so say- 
ing, he left the place. 

Shenly was lying on his back. His eyes were closed, 
forming two dark-blue pits in his face ; his breath was com- 
ing and going with a slow, long-drawn, mechanical preci 
sion. It was the mere foundering hull of a man that was 
before me ; and though it presented the well-known features 
of my mess-mate, yet I knew that the living soul of Shenly 
never more would look out of those eyes. 

So warm had it been during the day, that the Surgeon 
himself, when visiting the sick-bay, had entered it in his 
shirt sleeves ; and so warm was now the night, that even in 
the lofty top I had worn but a loose linen frock and trowsers. 
But in this subterranean sick-bay, buried in the very bowels 
of the ship, and at sea cut off from all ventilation, the heat 
of the night calm was intense. The sweat dripped from me 
as if I had just emerged from a bath ; and stripping myself 
naked to the waist, I sat by the side of the cot, and with a 
bit of crumpled paper — put into my hand by the sailor I had 
relieved — kept fanning the motionless white face before me. 

I could not help thinking, as I gazed, whether this man’s 
fate had not been accelerated by his confinement in this heat- 
ed furnace below ; and whether many a sick man round me 


might not soon improve, if hut permitted to swing his ham- 
mock in the airy vacancies of the half-deck above, open to 
the port-holes, but reserved for the promenade of the offi- 
cers. 

At last the heavy breathing grew more and more irregu- 
lar, and gradually dying away, left forever the unstirring form 
of Shenley. 

Calling the Surgeon’s steward, he at once told me to rouse 
the master-at-arms, and four or five of my mess-mates. The 
master-at-arms approached, and immediately demanded the 
dead man’s bag, which was accordingly dragged into the bay. 
Having been laid on the floor, and washed with a bucket of 
water which I drew from the ocean, the body was then 
dressed in a white frock, trowsers, and neckerchief, taken out 
of the bag. While this was going on, the master-at-arms — 
standing over the operation with his rattan, and directing 
myself and mess-mates — indulged in much discursive levity, 
intended to manifest his fearlessness of death. 

Pierre, who had been a “ chummy ” of Shenly’s, spent 
much time in tying the neckkerchief in an elaborate bow, and 
affectionately adjusting the white frock and trowsers ; but 
the master-at-arms put an end to this by ordering us to carry 
the body up to the gun-deck. It was placed on the death- 
board (used for that purpose), and we proceeded with it to- 
ward the main hatchway, awkwardly crawling under the tiers 
of hammocks, where the entire watch-below was sleeping. 
As, unavoidably, we rocked their pallets, the man-of-war’s- 
men would cry out against us ; through the mutterings of 
curses, the corpse reached the hatchway. Here the board 
slipped, and some time was spent in readjusting the body. 
At length we deposited it on the gun-deck, between two guns, 
and a union-jack being thrown over it for a pall, I was left 
again to watch by its side. 

I had not been seated on my shot-box three minutes, when 
the messenger-boy passed me on his way forward ; presently 
the slow, regular stroke of the ship’s great bell was heard, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


393 


proclaiming through the calm the expiration of the watch ; 
it was four o’clock in the morning. 

Poor Shenly ! thought I, that sounds like your knell ! and 
here you lie becalmed, in the last calm of all ! 

Hardly had the brazen din died away, when the Boatswain 
and his mates mustered round the hatchway, within a yard 
or two of the corpse, and the usual thundering call was given 
for the watch below to turn out. 

“ All the starboard- watch, ahoy ! On deck there, below ! 
Wide awake there, sleepers !” 

But the dreamless sleeper by my side, who had so often 
sprung from his hammock at that summons, moved not a 
limb ; the blue sheet over him lay unwrinkled. 

A mess-mate of the other watch now came to relieve me ; 
but I told him I chose to remain where I was till daylight 
came. 


CHAPTER LXXX. 


THE LAST STITCH. 

Just before daybreak, two of the sail-maker’s gang drew 
near, each with a lantern, carrying some canvass, two large 
shot, needles, and twine. I knew their errand ; for in men- 
of-war the sail-maker is the undertaker. 

They laid the body on deck, and, after fitting the canvass 
to it, seated themselves, cross-legged like tailors, one on each 
side, and, with their lanterns before them, went to stitching 
away, as if mending an old sail. Both were old men, with 
grizzled hair and beard, and shrunken faces. They belonged 
to that small class of aged seamen who, for their previous long 
and faithful services, are retained in the Navy more as pen- 
sioners upon its merited bounty than any thing else. They 
are set to light and easy duties. 

“ Ar’n’t this the fore-top-man, Shenly ?” asked the fore- 
most, looking full at the frozen face before him. 

“ Ay, ay, old Ringrope,” said the other, drawing his hand 
far back with a long thread, “ I thinks it’s him ; and he’s fur- 
ther aloft now, I hope, than ever he was at the fore-truck. 
But I only hopes ; I’m afeard this ar’n’t the last on him !” 

“ His hull here will soon be going out of sight below hatch- 
es, though, old Thrummings,” replied Ringrope, placing two 
heavy cannon-balls in the foot of the canvass shroud. 

“ I don’t know that, old man ; I never yet sewed up a ship- 
mate but he spooked me arterward. I tell ye, Ringrope, these 
’ere corpses is cunning. You think they sinks deep, but they 
comes up agin as soon as you sails over ’em. They lose the 
number of their mess, and their mess-mates sticks their spoons 
in the rack ; but no good — no good, old Ringrope ; they ar’n’t 
dead yet. I tell ye, now, ten best-bower-anchors wouldn’t sink 


T H E WORLD IN A M A N-0 F-W A R. 


335 


this ’ere top-man. He’ll be soon coming 1 in the wake of the 
thirty-nine spooks what spooks me every night in my hammock 
— jist afore the mid- watch is called. Small thanks I gets for 
my pains ; and every one on ’em looks so ’proachful-like, with 
a sail-maker’s needle through his nose. I’ve been thinkin’, 
old Ringrope, it’s all wrong that ’ere last stitch we takes. 
Depend on’t, they don’t like it — none on ’em.” 

I was standing leaning over a gun, gazing at the two old 
men. The last remark reminded me of a superstitious cus- 
tom generally practiced by most sea-undertakers upon these 
occasions. I resolved that, if I could help it, it should not 
take place upon the remains of Shenly. 

“Thrummings,” said I, advancing to the last speaker, “you 
are right. That last thing you do to the canvass is the very 
reason, be sure of it, that brings the ghosts after you, as you 
say. So don’t do it to this poor fellow, I entreat. Try once, 
now, how it goes not to do it.” 

“ What do you say to the youngster, old man ?” said Thrum- 
mings, holding up his lantern into his comrade’s wrinkled face, 
as if deciphering some ancient parchment. 

“ I’m agin all innowations,” said Ringrope ; “ it’s a good 
old fashion, that last stitch ; it keeps ’em snug, d’ye see, young- 
ster. I’m blest if they could sleep sound, if it wa’n’t for that. 
No, no, Thrummings ! no innowations ; I won’t hear on’t. I 
goes for the last stitch !” 

“ S’ pose you was going to be sewed up yourself, old Ring- 
rope, would you like the last stitch then ? You are an old 
gun, Ringrope ; you can’t stand looking out at your port-hole 
much longer,” said Thrummings, as his own palsied hands 
were quivering over the canvass. 

“ Better say that to yourself, old man,” replied Ringrope, 
stooping close to the light to thread his coarse needle, which 
trembled in his withered hands like the needle in a compass 
of a Greenland ship near the Pole. “You ain’t long for the 
sarvice. I wish I could give you some o’ the blood in my 
veins, old man !” 


396 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


“Ye ain’t got ne’er a tea-spoonful to spare,” said Thrum- 
mings. “ It will go hard, and I wouldn’t want to do it ; but 
I’m afear’d I’ll have the sewing on ye up afore long !” 

“ Sew me up ? Me dead and you alive, old man?” shriek- 
ed Ringrope. “ Well, I’ve he’rd the parson of the old Inde- 
pendence say as how old age was deceitful ; but I never seed 
it so true afore this blessed night. I’m sorry for ye, old man 
— to see you so innocent-like, and Death all the while turn- 
ing in and out with you in your hammock, for all the world 
like a hammock-mate.” 

“ You lie ! old man,” cried Thrummings, shaking with rage. 
“ It’s you that have Death for a hammock-mate ; it’s you that 
will make a hole in the shot-locker soon.” 

“ Take that back !” cried Ringrope, huskily, leaning far 
over the corpse, and, needle in hand, menacing his companion 
with his aguish fist. “ Take that back, or I’ll throttle your 
lean bag of wind for ye !” 

“ Blast ye ! old chaps, ain’t ye any more manners than to 
be fighting over a dead man ?” cried one of the sail-maker’s 
mates, coming down from the spar-deck. “ Bear a hand ! — 
bear a hand ! and get through with that job !” 

“ Only one more stitch to take,” muttered Ringrope, creep- 
ing near the face. 

“ Drop your ‘palm,’ then, and let Thrummings take it ; 
follow me — the foot of the main-sail wants mending — must 
do it afore a breeze springs up. D’ye hear, old chap ! I say, 
drop yom palm, and follow me.” 

At the reiterated command of his superior, Ringrope rose, 
and, turning to his comrade, said, “I take it all back, Thrum- 
mings, and I’m sorry for it, too. But mind ye, take that ’ere 
last stitch, now ; if ye don’t, there’s no tellin’ the conse- 
kenses.” 

As the mate and his man departed, I stole up to Thrum- 
mings, “ Don’t do it — don’t do it, now, Thrummings — depend 
on it, it’s wrong !” 

“ Well, youngster, I’ll try this here one without it for jist 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


397 


this here once ; and if, arter that, he don’t spook me, I’ll 
he dead agin the last stitch as long as my name is Thrum- 
mings.” 

So, without mutilation, the remains were replaced between 
the guns, the union jack again thrown over them, and I re- 
seated myself on the shot-box. 


CHAPTER LXXXI, 

HOW THEY BURY A MAN-OF-WAR’ S-M AN AT SEA. 

Quarters over in the morning, the boatswain and his four 
mates stood round the main hatchway, and after giving the 
usual whistle, made the customary announcement — “ All 
hands bury the dead , ahoy /” 

In a man-of-war, every thing, even to a man’s funeral and 
burial, proceeds with the unrelenting promptitude of the mar- 
tial code. And whether it is all hands bury the dead! or all 
hands splice the main-brace , the order is given in the same 
hoarse tones. 

Both officers and men assembled in the lee waist, and 
through that bareheaded crowd the mess-mates of Shenly 
brought his body to the same gangway where it had thrice 
winced under the scourge. But there is something in death 
that ennobles even a pauper’s corpse ; and the Captain himself 
stood bareheaded before the remains of a man whom, with his 
hat on, he had sentenced to the ignominious gratings when alive. 

“ I am the resurrection and the life!” solemnly began the 
Chaplain, in full canonicals, the prayer-book in his hand. 

“ Damn you ! off those booms !” roared a boatswain’s mate 
to a crowd of top-men, who had elevated themselves to gain 
a better view of the scene. 

“ We commit this body to the deep /” At the word, Shenly’s 
mess-mates tilted the board, and the dead sailor sank in the sea. 

“ Look aloft,” whispered Jack Chase. “ See that bird 1 
it is the spirit of Shenly.” 

Gazing upward, all beheld a snow-white, solitary fowl, 
which — whence coming no one could tell — had been hover- 
ing over the main-mast during the service, and was now sail- 
ing far up into the depths of the sky. 


CHAPTER LXXXII. 

WHAT REMAINS OF A MAN-OF-WAR’s-MAN AFTER HIS BURIAL 
AT SEA. 

Upon examining Shenly’s bag, a will was found, scratched 
in pencil, upon a blank leaf in the middle of his Bible ; or, to 
use the phrase of one of the seamen, in the midships, atween 
the Bible and Testament, where the Pothecary (Apocrypha) 
uses to be. 

The will was comprised in one solitary sentence, exclusive 
of the dates and signatures : “ In case I die on the voyage , 
the Purser will jplease pay over my wages to my wife , who 
lives in Portsmouth , New Hampshire .” 

Besides the testator’s, there were two signatures of wit- 
nesses. 

This last will and testament being shown to the Purser, 
who, it seems, had been a notary, or surrogate, or some sort 
of cosy chamber practitioner in his time, he declared that it 
must be “ proved.” So the witnesses were called, and after 
recognizing their hands to the paper ; for the purpose of addi- 
tionally testing their honesty, they were interrogated concern- 
ing the day on which they had signed — whether it was Ban- 
yan Day, or Duff Day, or Swamp-seed Day ; for among the 
sailors on board a man-of-war, the land terms, Monday, Tues- 
day, Wednesday, are almost unknown. In place of these they 
substitute nautical names, some of which are significant of 
the daily bill of fare at dinner for the week. 

The two witnesses were somewhat puzzled by the attorney- 
like questions of the Purser, till a third party came along, one 
of the ship’s barbers, and declared, of his own knowledge, that 
Shenly executed the instrument on a Shaving Day ; for the 


400 


WHITE-JACKET. 


deceased seaman had informed him of the circumstance, when 
he came to have his heard reaped on the morning of the event. 

In the Purser’s opinion, this settled the question ; and it is 
to he hoped that the widow duly received her husband’s death- 
earned wages. 

Shenly was dead and gone ; and what was Shenly’s epi- 
taph ? 

— “ D. D.”— 

opposite his name in the Purser’s hooks, in “ Black's best 
Writing Fluid " — funereal name and funereal hue — mean- 
ing “ Discharged, Dead.” 


-• > • ' ■ ■ -u .■ . 

' 

CHAPTER LXXXIII. 

A MAN-OF-WAR COLLEGE. 

In our man-of-war world, Life comes in at one gangway 
and Death goes overboard at the other. Under the man-of- 
war scourge, curses mix with tears ; and the sigh and the sob 
furnish the bass to the shrill octave of those who laugh to 
drown buried griefs of their own. Checkers were played in 
the waist at the time of Shenly’s burial ; and as the body 
plunged, a player swept the board. The bubbles had hardly 
burst, when all hands were piped down by the Boatswain, 
and the old jests were heard again, as if Shenly himself were 
there to hear. 

This man-of-war life has not left me unhardened. I can 
not stop to weep over Shenly now ; that would be false to the 
life I depict ; wearing no mourning weeds, I resume the task 
of portraying our man-of-war world. 

Among the various other vocations, all driven abreast on 
board of the Neversink, was that of the schoolmaster. There 
were two academies in the frigate. One comprised the ap- 
prentice boys, who, upon certain days of the week, were in- 
doctrinated in the mysteries of the primer by an invalid cor- 
poral of marines, a slender, wizzen-cheeked man, who had re- 
ceived a liberal infant-school education. 

The other school was a far more pretentious affair — a sort 
of army and navy seminary combined, where mystical mathe- 
matical problems were solved by the midshipmen, and great 
ships-of-the-line were navigated over imaginary shoals by un- 
imaginable observations of the moon and the stars, and learn- 
ed lectures were delivered upon great guns, small arms, and 
the curvilinear lines described by bombs in the air. 


402 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


“ The Professor ” was the title bestowed upon the erudite 
gentleman who conducted this seminary, and by that title 
alone was he known throughout the ship. He was domiciled 
in the Ward-room, and circulated there on a social par with 
the Purser, Surgeon, and other no?i-combatants and Quakers. 
By being advanced to the dignity of a peerage in the Ward- 
room, Science and Learning were ennobled in the person of 
this Professor, even as divinity was honored in the Chaplain 
enjoying the rank of a spiritual peer. 

Every other afternoon, while at sea, the Professor assembled 
his pupils on the half-deck, near the long twenty-four pound- 
ers. A bass drum-head was his desk, his pupils forming a 
semicircle around him, seated on shot-boxes and match-tubs. 

They were in the jelly of youth, and this learned Professor 
poured into their susceptible hearts all the gentle, gunpowder 
maxims of war. Presidents of Peace Societies and Superin- 
tendents of Sabbath Schools, must it not have been a most 
interesting sight ? 

But the Professor himself was a noteworthy person. A tall, 
thin, spectacled man, about forty years old, with a student’s 
stoop in his shoulders, and wearing uncommonly scanty pan- 
taloons, exhibiting an undue proportion of his boots. In early 
life he had been a cadet in the military academy of West 
Point ; but, becoming very weak-sighted, and thereby in a 
good manner disqualified for active service in the field, he had 
declined entering the army, and accepted the office of Profes- 
sor in the Navy. 

His studies at West Point had thoroughly grounded him in 
a knowledge of gunnery ; and, as he was not- a little of a ped- 
ant, it was sometimes amusing, when the sailors were at 
quarters, to hear him criticise their evolutions at the batteries. 
He would quote Dr, Hutton’s Tracts on the subject, also, in 
the original, “ The French Bombardier and wind up by Ital- 
ian passages from the “ Prattica Manuale dell' Artiglieria.” 

Though not required by the Navy regulations to instruct 
his scholars in aught but the application of mathematics to 


T H E WORLD IN A MAN-OF WAR. 


403 


navigation, yet besides this, and besides instructing them in 
the theory of gunnery, he also sought to root them in the the- 
ory of frigate and fleet tactics. To be sure, he himself did not 
know how to splice a rope or furl a sail ; and, owing to his 
partiality for strong coffee, he was apt to be nervous when we 
fired salutes ; yet all this did not prevent him from delivering 
lectures on cannonading and “ breaking the enemy’s line.” 

He had arrived at his knowledge of tactics by silent, solitary 
study, and earnest meditation in the sequestered retreat of his 
state-room. His case was somewhat parallel to the Scotch- 
man’s — John Clerk, Esq., of Eldin — who, though he had nev- 
er been to sea, composed a quarto treatise on fleet-fighting, 
which to this day remains a text-book ; and he also originated 
a nautical maneuvre, which has given to England many a 
victory over her foes. 

Now there was a large black-board, something like a great- 
gun target — only it was square — which during the professor’s 
lectures was placed upright on the gun-deck, supported behind 
by three boarding-pikes. And here he would chalk out dia- 
grams of great fleet engagements ; making marks, like the 
soles of shoes, for the ships, and drawing a dog-vane in one 
corner to denote the assumed direction of the wind. This 
done, with a cutlass he would point out every spot of interest. 

“ Now, young gentlemen, the board before you exhibits the 
disposition of the British West Indian squadron under Rod- 
ney, when, early on the morning of the 9th of April, in the 
year of our blessed Lord 1782, he discovered part of the French 
fleet, commanded by the Count de Grasse, lying under the 
north end of the Island of Dominica. It was at this juncture 
that the Admiral gave the signal for the British line to pre- 
pare for battle, and stand on. D’ye understand, young gen- 
tlemen? Well, the British van having nearly fetched up 
with the centre of the enemy — who, be it remembered, were 
then on the starboard tack — and Rodney’s centre and rear 
being yet becalmed under the lee of the land — the question I 
ask you is, What should Rodney now do ?” 


\ 

404 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


“ Blaze away, by all means !” responded a rather confident 
reefer, who had zealously been observing the diagram. 

“ But, sir, his centre and rear are still becalmed, and his 
van has not yet closed with the enemy.’’ 

“Wait till he does come in range, and then blaze away,” 
said the reefer. 

“ Permit me to remark, Mr. Pert, that ‘ blaze away ’ is not 
a strictly technical term ; and also permit me to hint, Mr. 
Pert, that you should consider the subject rather more deeply 
before you hurry forward your opinion.” 

This rebuke not only abashed Mr. Pert, but for a time in- 
timidated the rest ; and the professor was obliged to proceed, 
and extricate the British fleet by himself. He concluded by 
awarding Admiral Rodney the victory, which must have been 
exceedingly gratifying to the family pride of the surviving rel- 
atives and connections of that distinguished hero. 

“ Shall I clean the board, sir ?” now asked Mr. Pert, bright- 
ening up. 

“ No, sir ; not till you have saved that crippled French 
ship in the corner. That ship, young gentlemen, is the Glo- 
rieuse ; you perceive she is cut off from her consorts, and the 
whole British fleet is giving chase to her. Her bowsprit is 
gone ; her rudder is tom away ; she has one hundred round 
shot in her hull, and two thirds of her men are dead or dying. 
What’s to be done ? the wind being at northeast by north ?” 

“ Well, sir,” said Mr. Dash, a chivalric young gentleman 
from Virginia, “ I wouldn’t strike yet ; I’d nail my colors to 
the main-royal-mast ! I would, by Jove !” 

“ That would not save your ship, sir ; besides, your main- 
mast has gone by the board.” ' 

“ I think, sir,” said Mr. Slim, a diffident youth, “ I think, 
sir, I would haul back the fore- top-sail.” 

“ And why so ? of what service would that be, I should 
like to know, Mr. Slim ?” 

“ I can’t tell exactly ; but I think it would help her a lit- 
tle,” was the timid reply. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


405 


“ Not a whit, sir — not one particle ; besides, you can’t haul 
back your fore-top-sail — your fore-mast is lying across your 
forecastle.” 

“ Haul hack the main-top-sail, then,” suggested another. 

“Can’t he done ; your main-mast, also, has gone by the 
board !” 

“ Mizzen-top-sail ?” meekly suggested little Boat-Plug. 

“ Your mizzen- top-mast, let me inform you, sir, was shot 
down in the first of the fight !” 

“ Well, sir,” cried Mr. Dash, “ I’d tack ship, any way ; 
bid ’em good-by with a broadside ; nail my flag to the keel, 
if there was no other place ; and blow my brains out on the 
poop !” 

“ Idle, idle, sir ! worse than idle ! you are carried away, 
Mr. Dash, by your ardent Southern temperament ! Let me 
inform you, young gentleman, that this ship,” touching it with 
his cutlass, “ can not be saved.” 

Then, throwing down his cutlass, “ Mr. Pert, have the 
goodness to hand me one of those cannon-balls from the rack.” 

Balancing the iron sphere in one hand, the learned professor 
began fingering it with the other, like Columbus illustrating 
the rotundity of the globe before the Boyal Commission of 
Castilian Ecclesiastics. 

“ Young gentlemen, I resume my remarks on the passage 
of a shot in vacuo , which remarks were interrupted yesterday 
by general quarters. After quoting that admirable passage 
in ‘ Spearman’s British Gunner,’ I then laid it down, you re- 
member, that the path of a shot in vacuo describes a parabol- 
ic curve. I now add that, agreeably to the method pursued 
by the illustrious Newton in treating the subject of curviline- 
ar motion, I consider the trajectory or curve described by a 
moving body in space as consisting of a series of right lines, 
described in successive intervals of time, and constituting the 
diagonals of parallelograms formed in a vertical plane between 
the vertical deflections caused by gravity and the production 
of the line of motion which has been described in each pre- 


406 


WHITE-JACKET. 


ceding interval of time. This must be obvious ; for, if you 
say that the passage in vacuo of this cannon-ball, now held 
in my hand, would describe otherwise than a series of right 
lines, &c., then you are brought to the Reductio ad Absur- 
dum, that the diagonals of parallelograms are — ” 

“ All hands reef top-sail !” was now thundered forth by the 
boatswain’s mates. The shot fell from the professor’s palm ; 
his spectacles dropped on his nose, and the school tumultu- 
ously broke up, the pupils scrambling up the ladders with the 
sailors, who had been overhearing the lecture. 





CHAPTER LXXXIV. 


MAN-OF-WAR BARBERS. 

The allusion to one of the ship’s barbers in a previous chap 
ter, together with the recollection of how conspicuous a part 
they enacted in a tragical drama soon to be related, leads me 
now to introduce them to the reader. 

Among the numerous artists and professors of polite trades 
in the Navy, none are held in higher estimation or drive a 
more profitable business than these barbers. And it may well 
be imagined that the five hundred heads of hair and five hund- 
red beards of a frigate should furnish no small employment 
for those to whose faithful care they may be intrusted. As 
every thing connected with the domestic affairs of a man-of- 
war comes under the supervision of the martial executive, so 
certain barbers are formally licensed by the First Lieutenant. 
The better to attend to the profitable duties of their calling, 
they are exempted from all ship’s duty except that of stand- 
ing night-watches at sea, mustering at quarters, and coming 
on deck when all hands are called. They are rated as able 
seamen or ordinary seamen, and receive their wages as such ; 
but in addition to this, they are liberally recompensed for their 
professional services. Herein their rate of pay is fixed for ev- 
ery sailor manipulated — so much per quarter, which is charged 
to the sailor, and credited to his barber on the books of the 
Purser. 

It has been seen that while a man-ofiwar barber is shaving 
his customers at so much per chin, his wages as a seaman 
are still running on, which makes him a sort of sleeping part- 
ner of a sailor ; nor are the sailor wages he receives altogether 
to bo reckoned as earnings. Considering the circumstances, 


408 


WHI T E-J A C K E T ; OR, 


however, not much objection can be made to the barbers on 
this score. But there were instances of men in the Neversink 
receiving government money in part pay for work done for 
private individuals. Among these were several accomplished 
tailors, who nearly the whole cruise sat cross-legged on the 
half-deck, making coats, pantaloons, and vests for the quarter- 
deck officers. Some of these men, though knowing little or 
nothing about sailor duties, and seldom or never performing 
them, stood upon the ship’s books as ordinary seamen, entitled 
to ten dollars a month. Why was this ? Previous to ship- 
ping they had divulged the fact of their being tailors. True, 
the officers who employed them upon their wardrobes paid 
them for their work, but some of them in such a way as to 
elicit much grumbling from the tailors. At any rate, these 
makers and menders of clothes did not receive from some of 
these officers an amount equal to what they could have fairly 
earned ashore by doing the same work. It was a consider- 
able saving to the officers to have their clothes made on board. 

The men belonging to the carpenter’s gang -furnished an- 
other case in point. There were some six or eight allotted to 
this department. All the cruise they were hard at work. 
At what? Mostly making chests of drawers, canes, little 
ships and schooners, swifts, and other elaborated trifles, chiefly 
for the Captain. What did the Captain pay them for their 
trouble ? Nothing. But the United States government paid 
them ; two of them (the mates) at nineteen dollars a month, 
and the rest receiving the pay of able seamen, twelve dollars. 

To return. 

The regular days upon which the barbers shall exercise 
their vocation are set down on the ship’s calendar, and known 
as shaving days. On board of the Neversink these days are 
Wednesdays and Saturdays ; when, immediately after break- 
fast, the barbers’ shops were opened to customers. They were 
in different parts of the gun-deck, between the long twenty- 
four pounders. Their furniture, however, was not very elab- 
orate, hardly equal to the sumptuous appointments of metro- 


THE WOULD IN a M a N‘0 e-w a r. 


409 


politan barbers. Indeed, it merely consisted of a match-tub, 
elevated upon a shot-box, as a barber’s chair for the patient. 
No Psyche glasses ; no hand-mirror ; no ewer and basin ; no 
comfortable padded footstool ; nothing, in short, that makes a 
shore “ shave ” such a luxury. 

Nor are the implements of these man-of-war barbers out of 
keeping with the rude appearance of their shops. Their ra- 
zors are of the simplest patterns, and, from their jaggedness, 
would seem better fitted for the preparing and harrowing of 
the soil than for the ultimate reaping of the crop. But this 
is no matter for wonder, since so many chins are to be shaven, 
and a razor-case holds but two razors. For only two razors 
does a man-of-war barber have, and, like the marine sentries 
at the gangways in port, these razors go off and on duty in 
rotation. One brush, too, brushes every chin, and one lather 
lathers them all. No private brushes and boxes ; no reserva- 
tions whatever. 

As it would be altogether too much trouble for a man-of- 
war’ s-man to keep his own shaving-tools and shave himself at 
sea, and since, therefore, nearly the whole ship’s company 
patronize the ship’s barbers, and as the seamen must be shaven 
by evening quarters of the days appointed for the business, it 
may be readily imagined what a scene of bustle and confusion 
there is when the razors are being applied. First come, first 
served, is the motto ; and often you have to wait for hours to- 
gether, sticking to your position (like one of an Indian file of 
merchants’clerks getting letters out of the post-office), ere you 
have a chance to occupy the pedestal of the match-tub. Often 
the crowd of quarrelsome candidates wrangle and fight for 
precedency, while at all times the interval is employed by 
the garrulous in every variety of ship-gossip. 

As the shaving days are unalterable, they often fall upon 
days of high seas and tempestuous winds, when the vessel 
pitches and rolls in a frightful manner. In consequence, many 
valuable lives are jeopardized from the razor being plied under 
such untoward circumstances. But these sea-barbers pride 

S 


410 


YV H 1 T E-J ACKET; O II, 


themselves upon their sea-legs, and often you will see them 
standing over their patients, with their feet wide apart, and 
scientifically swaying their bodies to the motion of the ship, 
as they flourish their edge-tools about the lips, nostrils, and 
jugular. 

As I looked upon the practitioner and patient at such times, 
I could not help thinking that, if the sailor had any insurance 
on his life, it would certainly be deemed forfeited should the 
president of the Company chance to lounge by and behold him 
in that imminent peril. For myself, I accounted it an ex- 
cellent preparation for going into a sea-fight, where fortitude 
in standing up to your gun and running the risk of all splin- 
ters, comprise part of the practical qualities that make up an 
efficient man-of-war’s-man. 

It remains to be related, that these barbers of ours had 
their labors considerably abridged by a fashion prevailing 
among many of the crew, of wearing very large whiskers ; 
so that, in most cases, the only parts needing a shave were 
the upper lip and suburbs of the chin. This had been more 
or less the custom during the whole three years’ cruise ; but 
for some time previous to our weathering Cape Horn, very 
many of the seamen had redoubled their assiduity in culti- 
vating their beards, preparatory to their return to America. 
There they anticipated creating no small impression by their 
immense and magnificent homeward-bounder s — so they called 
the long fly-brushes at their chins. In particular, the more 
aged sailors, embracing the Old Guard of sea grenadiers on 
the forecastle, and the begrimed gunner’s mates and quarter- 
gunners, sported most venerable beards of an exceeding length 
and hoariness, like long, trailing moss hanging from the bough 
of some aged oak. Above all, the Captain of the Forecastle, 
old ITshant — a fine specimen of a sea sexagenarian — wore a 
wide, spreading beard, grizzled and gray, that flowed over 
his breast, and often became tangled and knotted with tar. 
This Ushant, in all weathers, was ever alert at his duty ; 
intrepidly mounting the fore-yard in a gale, his long beard 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


411 


streaming like Neptune’s. Off Cape Horn it looked like a 
miller’s, being all over powdered with frost : sometimes it 
glittered with minute icicles in the pale, cold, moonlit Pata- 
gonian nights. But though he was so active in time of 
tempest, yet when his duty did not call for exertion, he was 
a remarkably staid, reserved, silent, and majestic old man, 
holding himself aloof from noisy revelry, and never partici- 
pating in the boisterous sports of the crew. He resolutely 
set his beard against their boyish frolickings, and often held 
forth like an oracle concerning the vanity thereof. Indeed, 
at times he was wont to talk philosophy to his ancient com- 
panions — the old sheet-anchor-men around him — as well as 
to the hare-brained tenants of the fore-top, and the giddy lads 
in the mizzen. 

Nor was his philosophy to be despised ; it abounded in wis- 
dom. For this Ushant was an old man, of strong natural 
sense, who had seen nearly the whole terraqueous globe, and 
could reason of civilized and savage, of Gentile and Jew, of 
Christian and Moslem. The long night-watches of the sailor 
are eminently adapted to draw out the reflective faculties of 
any serious-minded man, however humble or uneducated. 
Judge, then, what half a century of battling out watches on 
the ocean must have done for this fine old tar. He was a 
sort of sea-Socrates, in his old age “ pouring out his last phi- 
losophy and life,” as sweet Spenser has it ; and I never could 
look at him, and survey his right reverend beard, without be- 
stowing upon him that title which, in one of his satires, Per- 
sius gives to the immortal quaffer of the hemlock — Magister 
Barbatus — the bearded master. 

Not a few of the ship’s company had also bestowed great 
pains upon their hair, which some of them — especially the 
genteel young sailor bucks of the after-guard — wore over their 
shoulders like the ringleted Cavaliers. Many sailors, with 
naturally tendril locks, prided themselves upon what they 
call love curls, worn at the side of the head, just before the 
ear — a custom peculiar to tars, and which seems to have 


412 


WHITE-JACKET. 


filled the vacated place of the old-fashioned Lord Rodney 
cue, which they used to wear some fifty years ago. 

But there were others of the crew laboring under the mis- 
fortune of long, lank, Winnebago locks, or carroty bunches 
of hair, or rebellious bristles of a sandy hue. Ambitious of 
redundant mops, these still suffered their carrots to grow, 
spite of all ridicule. They looked like Huns and Scandina- 
vians ; and one of them, a young Down Easter, the unenvied 
proprietor of a thick crop of inflexible yellow bamboos, went 
by the name of Peter the Wild Boy ; for, like Peter the 
Wild Boy in France, it was supposed that he must have been 
caught like a catamount in the pine woods of Maine. But 
there were many fine, flowing heads of hair to counterbalance 
such sorry exhibitions as Peter’s. 

What with long whiskers and venerable beards, then, of 
every variety of cut — Charles the Fifth’s and Aurelian’s — 
md endless goatees and imperials ; and what with abound- 
ing locks, our crew seemed a company of Merovingians or 
Long-haired kings, mixed with savage Lombards or Longo- 
bardi, so called from their lengthy beards. 


CHAPTER LXXXV. 


THE GREAT MASSACRE OF THE BEARDS. 

The preceding chapter fitly paves the way for the present, 
wherein it sadly befalls White- Jacket to chronicle a calami- 
tous event, which filled the Neversink with long lamentations, 
that echoed through all her decks and tops. After dwelling 
upon our redundant locks and thrice-noble beards, fain would 
I cease, and let the sequel remain undisclosed, but truth and 
fidelity forbid. 

As I now deviously hover and lingeringly skirmish about 
the frontiers of this melancholy recital, a feeling of sadness 
comes over me that I can not withstand. Such a heartless 
massacre of hair ! Such a Bartholomew’s Day and Sicilian 
Vespers of assassinated beards ! Ah ! who would believe it ! 
With intuitive sympathy I feel of my own brown beard while 
I write, and thank my kind stars that each precious hair is 
forever beyond the reach of the ruthless barbers of a man-of- 
war ! 

It needs that this sad and most serious matter should be 
faithfully detailed. Throughout the cruise, many of the offi- 
cers had expressed their abhorrence of the impunity with 
which the most extensive plantations of hair were cultivated 
under their very noses ; and they frowned upon every beard 
with even greater dislike. They said it was unseamanlike ; 
not shijp-shape; in short, it was disgraceful to the Navy. 
But as Captain Claret said nothing, and as the officers, of 
themselves, had no authority to preach a crusade against whis- 
kerandoes, the Old Guard on the forecastle still complacently 
stroked their beards, and the sweet youths of the After-guard 
still lovingly threaded their fingers through their curls. 


414 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


Perhaps the Captain’s generosity in thus far permitting our 
beards sprung from the fact that he himself wore a small 
speck of a beard upon his own imperial cheek ; which, if ru- 
mor said true, was to hide something, as Plutarch relates of 
the Emperor Adrian. But, to do him justice — as I always 
have done — the Captain’s beard did not exceed the limits 
prescribed by the Navy Department. 

According to a then recent ordinance at Washington, the 
beards of both officers and seamen were to be accurately laid 
out and surveyed, and on no account must come lower than 
the mouth, so as to correspond with the Army standard — a 
regulation directly opposed to the theocratical law laid down 
in the nineteenth chapter and twenty-seventh verse of Levit- 
icus, where it is expressly ordained, “ Thou shalt not mar the 
corners, of thy beard T But legislators do not always square 
their statutes by those of the Bible. 

At last, when we had crossed the Northern Tropic, and 
were standing up to our guns at evening quarters, and when 
the setting sun, streaming in at the port-holes, lit up every 
hair, till, to an observer on the quarter-deck, the two long, 
even lines of beards seemed one dense grove ; in that evil hour 
it must have been, that a cruel thought entered into the heart 
of our Captain. 

A pretty set of savages, thought he, am I taking home to 
America ; people will think them all catamounts and Turks. 
Besides, now that I think of it, it’s against the law. It will 
never do. They must be shaven and shorn — that’s flat. 

There is no knowing, indeed, whether these were the very 
words in which the Captain meditated that night ; for it is 
yet a mooted point among metaphysicians, whether we think 
in words or whether we think in thoughts. But something 
like the above must have been the Captain’s cogitations. At 
any rate, that very evening the ship’s company were astounded 
by an extraordinary announcement made at the main-hatch- 
way of the. gun-deck, by the Boatswain’s mate there stationed. 
He was afterward discovered to have been tipsy at the time. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


415 


“ D’ye hear there, fore and aft ? All you that have hair 
on your heads, shave them off ; and all you that have beards, 
trim ’em small !” 

Shave off our Christian heads ! And then, placing them 
between our knees, trim small our worshiped beards ! The 
Captain was mad. 

But directly the Boatswain came rushing to the hatchway, 
and, after soundly rating his tipsy mate, thundered forth a true 
version of the order that had issued from the quarter-deck. 
As amended, it ran thus : 

“ D’ye hear there, fore and aft ? All you that have long 
hair, cut it short ; and all you that have large whiskers, trim 
them down, according to the Navy regulations.” 

This was an amendment, to be sure ; but what barbarity, 
after all ! What ! not thirty days’ run from home, and lose 
our magnificent homeward-bounders ! The homeward-bound- 
ers we had been cultivating so long ! Lose them at one fell 
swoop ? Were the vile barbers of the gun-deck to reap our 
long, nodding harvests, and expose our innocent chins to the 
chill air of the Yankee coast ! And our viny locks ! were 
they also to be shorn ? Was a grand sheep-shearing, such as 
they annually have at Nantucket, to take place ; and our ig- 
noble barbers to carry off the fleece ? 

Captain Claret ! in cutting our beards and our hair, you 
cut us the unkindest cut of all ! Were we going into action, 
Captain Claret — going to fight the foe with our hearts of flame 
and our arms of steel, then would we gladly offer up our beards 
to the terrific God of War, and that we would account but a 
wise precaution against having them tweaked by the foe. 
Then , Captain Claret, you would but be imitating the exam- 
ple of Alexander, who had his Macedonians all shaven, that 
in the hour of battle their beards might not be handles to the 
Persians. But now , Captain Claret ! when after our long, 
long cruise, we are returning to our homes, tenderly stroking 
the fine tassels on our chins, and thinking of father or mother, 
or sister or brother, or daughter or son ; to cut off our beards 


416 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


now — the very beards that were frosted white off the pitch of 
Patagonia — this is too bitterly bad, Captain Claret ! and, by 
Heaven, we will not submit. Train your guns inboard, let 
the marines fix their bayonets, let the officers draw their 
swords ; we will not let our beards be reaped — the last insult 
inflicted upon a vanquished foe in the East ! 

Where are you, sheet-anchor-men ! Captains of the tops ! 
gunner’s mates ! mariners, all ! Muster round the capstan 
your venerable beards, and while you braid them together in 
token of brotherhood, cross hands and swear that we will en- 
act over again the mutiny of the Nore, and sooner perish than 
yield up a hair ! 

The excitement was intense throughout that whole evening. 
Groups of tens and twenties were scattered about all the decks, 
discussing the mandate, and inveighing against its barbarous 
author. The long area of the gun-deck was something like a 
populous street of brokers, when some terrible commercial tid- 
ings have newly arrived. One and all, they resolved not to 
succumb, and every man swore to stand by his beard and his 
neighbor. 

Twenty-four hours after — at the next evening quarters — 
the Captain’s eye was observed to wander along the men at 
their guns — not a beard was shaven ! 

When the drum beat the retreat, the Boatswain — now at- 
tended by all four of his mates, to give additional solemnity to 
the announcement — repeated the previous day’s order, and 
concluded by saying, that twenty-four hours would be given 
for all to acquiesce. 

But the second day passed, and at quarters, untouched, ev- 
ery beard bristled on its chin. Forthwith Captain Claret 
summoned the midshipmen, who, receiving his orders, hurried 
to the various divisions of the guns, and communicated them 
to the Lieutenants respectively stationed over divisions. 

The officer commanding mine turned upon us, and said, 
“ Men, if to-morrow night I find any of you with long hair, or 
whiskers of a standard violating the Navy regulations, the 
names of such offenders shall be put down on the report.” 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


417 


The affair had now assumed a most serious aspect. The 
Captain was in earnest. The excitement increased ten-fold ; 
and a great many of the older seamen, exasperated to the ut- 
termost, talked about knocking off duty till the obnoxious 
mandate was revoked, I thought it impossible that they 
would seriously think of such a folly ; but there is no knowing 
what man-of-war’ s-men will sometimes do, under provocation 
— witness Parker and the Nore. 

That same night, when the first watch was set, the men 
in a body drove the two boatswain’s mates from their stations 
at the fore and main hatchways, and unshipped the ladders ; 
thus cutting off all communication between the gun and spar 
decks, forward of the main-mast. 

Mad Jack had the trumpet ; and no sooner was this incip- 
ient mutiny reported to him, than he jumped right down 
among the mob, and fearlessly mingling with them, exclaim- 
ed, “ What do you mean, men ? don’t be fools ! This is no 
way to get what you want. Turn to, my lads, turn to ! 
Boatswain’s mate, ship that ladder ! So ! up you tumble, 
now, my hearties ! away you go !” 

His gallant, off-handed, confident manner, recognizing no 
attempt at mutiny, operated upon the sailors like magic. 
They tumbled up, as commanded ; and for the rest of that 
night contented themselves with privately fulminating their 
displeasure against the Captain, and publicly emblazoning ev- 
ery anchor-button on the coat of admired Mad Jack. 

Captain Claret happened to be taking a nap in his cabin at 
the moment of the disturbance ; and it,was quelled so soon, 
that he knew nothing of it till it was officially reported to 
him. It was afterward rumored through the ship that he 
reprimanded Mad Jack for acting as he did. He maintained 
that he should at once have summoned the marines, and 
charged upon the “ mutineers.” But if the sayings imputed 
to the Captain were true, he nevertheless refrained from sub- 
sequently noticing the disturbance, or attempting to seek out 
and punish the ringleaders. This was but wise ; for there 


418 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


are times when even the most potent governor must wink at 
transgression, in order to preserve the laws inviolate for the 
future. And great care is to he taken, by timely manage- 
ment, to avert an incontestable act of mutiny, and so prevent 
men from being roused, by their own consciousness of trans- 
gression, into all the fury of an unbounded insurrection. Then , 
for the time, both soldiers and sailors are irresistible ; as even 
the valor of Caesar was made to know, and the prudence of 
Germanicus, when their legions rebelled. And not all the 
concessions of Earl Spencer, as First Lord of the Admiralty, 
nor the threats and entreaties of Lord Bridport, the Admiral 
of the Fleet — no, nor his gracious majesty’s plenary pardon in 
prospective, could prevail upon the Spithead mutineers (when 
at last fairly lashed up to the mark) to succumb, until desert- 
ed by their own mess-mates, and a handful was left in the 
breach. 

Therefore, Mad Jack ! you did right, and no one else could 
have acquitted himself better. By your crafty simplicity, 
good-natured daring, and off-handed air (as if nothing was 
happening) you perhaps quelled a very serious affair in the 
bud, and prevented the disgrace to the American Navy of a 
tragical mutiny, growing out of whiskers, soap-suds, and ra- 
zors. Think of it, if future historians should devote a long 
chapter to the great Rebellion of the Beards on board the 
United States ship Neversink. Why, through all time there- 
after, barbers would cut down their spiralized poles, and sub- 
stitute miniature main-masts for the emblems of their calling. 

And here is ampl^ scope for some pregnant instruction, how 
that events of vast magnitude in our man-of-war world may 
originate in the pettiest of trifles. But that is an old theme ; 
we waive it, and proceed. 

On the morning following, though it was not a regular 
shaving day, the gun-deck barbers were observed to have their 
shops open, their match-tub accommodations in readiness, and 
their razors displayed. With their brushes, raising a mighty 
lather in their tin pots, they stood eying the passing throng 


THE WORLD IN A M A N-0 F-W A R. 


419 


of seamen, silently inviting them to walk in and be served. 
In addition to their usual implements, they now flourished at 
intervals a huge pair of sheep-shears, by way of more forcibly 
reminding the men of the edict which that day must be obey- 
ed, or woe betide them. 

For some hours the seamen paced to and fro in no very 
good humor, vowing not to sacrifice a hair. Beforehand, 
they denounced that man who should abase himself by com- 
pliance. But habituation to discipline is magical ; and ere 
long an old forecastle-man was discovered elevated upon a 
match-tub, while, with a malicious grin, his barber — a fellow 
who, from his merciless rasping, was called Blue- Skin — seized 
him by his long beard, and at one fell stroke cut it off and 
tossed it out of the port-hole behind him. This forecastle-man 
was ever afterward known by a significant title — in the main 
equivalent to that name of reproach fastened upon that Athe- 
nian who, in Alexander’s time, previous to which all the Greeks 
sported beards, first submitted to the deprivation of his own. 
But, spite of all the contempt hurled on our forecastle-man, so 
prudent an example was soon followed ; presently all the bar- 
bers were busy. 

Sad sight ! at which any one but a barber or a Tartar 
would have wept ! Beards three years old ; goatees that 
would have graced . a Chamois of the Alps ; imperials that 
Count D’Orsay would have envied ; and love-curls and man- 
of-war ringlets that would have measured, inch for inch, with 
the longest tresses of The F air One with the Golden Locks — 
all went by the board ! Captain Claret ! how can you rest 
in your hammock ! By this brown beard which now waves 
from my chin — the illustrious successor to that first, young, 
vigorous beard I yielded to your tyranny — by this manly beard, 
I swear, it was barbarous ! 

My noble captain, Jack Chase, was indignant. Not even 
all the special favors he had received from Captain Claret, 
and the plenary pardon extended to him for his desertion into 
the Peruvian service, could restrain the expression of his feel- 


420 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


ings. But in his cooler moments, Jack was a wise man ; he 
at last deemed it hut wisdom to succumb. 

When he went to the barber he almost drew tears from 
his eyes. Seating himself mournfully on the match-tub, he 
looked sideways, and said to the barber, who was slithering 
his sheep-shears in readiness to begin : “ My friend, I trust 
your scissors are consecrated. Let them not touch this beard 
if they have yet to be dipped in holy water ; beards are sa- 
cred things, barber. Have you no feeling for beards, my 
friend? think of it;” and mournfully he laid his deep-dyed, 
russet cheek upon his hand. “Two summers have gone by 
since my chin has been reaped. I was in Coquimbo then, 
on the Spanish Main ; and when the husbandman was sow- 
ing his Autumnal grain on the Vega, I started this blessed 
beard ; and when the vine-dressers were trimming their vines 
in the vineyards, I first trimmed it to the sound of a flute. 
Ah ! barber, have you no heart ? This beard has been ca- 
ressed by the snow-white hand of the lovely Tomasita of Tom- 
bez — the Castilian belle of all Lower Peru. Think of that, 
barber ! I have worn it as an officer on the quarter-deck of 
a Peruvian man-of-war. I have sported it at brilliant fan- 
dangoes in Lima. I have been alow and aloft with it at sea. 
Yea, barber! it has streamed like an Admiral’s pennant at 
the mast-head of this same gallant frigate, the Neversink ! 
Oh ! barber, barber ! it stabs me to the heart ! — Talk not of 
hauling down your ensigns and standards when vanquished — 
what vs that, barber ! to striking the flag that Nature herself 
has nailed to the mast !” 

Here noble Jack’s feelings overcame him ; he drooped from 
the animated attitude into which his enthusiasm had moment- 
arily transported him ; his proud head sunk upon his chest, 
and his long, sad beard almost grazed the deck. 

“ Ay ! trail your beards in grief and dishonor, oh crew of 
the Neversink !” sighed Jack. “ Barber, come closer — now, 
tell me, my friend, have you obtained absolution for this deed 
you are about to commit ? You have not ? Then, barber. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


421 


I will absolve you ; your hands shall he washed of this sin ; 
it is not you, but another ; and though you are about to shear 
.off my manhood, yet, barber, I freely forgive you ; kneel, 
kneel, barber ! that I may bless you, in token that I cherish 
no malice !” 

So when this barber, who was the only tender-hearted one 
of his tribe, had kneeled, been absolved, and then blessed, Jack 
gave up his beard into his hands, and the barber, clipping it 
off with a sigh, held it high aloft, and, parodying the style of 
the boatswain’s mates, cried aloud, “ D’ye hear, fore and aft ? 
This is the beard of our matchless Jack Chase, the noble cap- 
tain of this frigate’s main-top !” 


CHAPTER LXXXVI. 


THE REBELS BROUGHT TO THE MAST. 

Though many heads of hair were shorn, and many fine 
beards reaped that day, yet several still held out, and vowed 
to defend their sacred hair to the last gasp of their breath. 
These were chiefly old sailors — some of them petty officers — 
who, presuming upon their age or rank, doubtless thought 
that, after so many had complied with the Captain’s com- 
mands, they , being but a handful, would be exempted from 
compliance, and remain a monument of our master’s clemency. 

That same evening, when the drum beat to quarters, the 
sailors went sullenly to their guns, and the old tars who still 
sported their beards stood up, grim, defying, and motionless; as 
the rows of sculptured Assyrian kings, who, with their mag- 
nificent beards, have recently been exhumed by Layard. 

When the proper time arrived, their names were taken 
down by the officers of divisions, and they were afterward 
summoned in a body to the mast, where the Captain stood 
ready to receive them. The whole ship’s company crowded 
to the spot, and, amid the breathless multitude, the venerable 
rebels advanced and unhatted. 

It was an imposing display. They were old and vener- 
able mariners ; their cheeks had been burned brown in all 
latitudes, wherever the sun sends a tropical ray. Reverend 
old tars, one and all ; some of them might have been grand- 
sires, with grandchildren in every port round the world. 
They ought to have commanded the veneration of the most 
frivolous or magisterial beholder. Even Captain Claret they 
ought to have humiliated into deference. But a Scythian is 
touched with no reverential promptings ; and, as the Roman 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


423 


student well knows, the august Senators themselves, seated 
in the Senate-house, on the majestic hill of the Capitol, had 
their holy beards tweaked by the insolent chief of the Goths. 

Such an array of beards ! spade-shaped, hammer-shaped, 
dagger-shaped, triangular, square, peaked, round, hemispheric- 
al, and forked. But chief among them all, was old Ushant’s, 
the ancient Captain of the Forecastle. Of a Gothic venera- 
bleness, it fell upon his breast like a continual iron-gray storm. 

Ah ! old Ushant, Nestor of the crew ! it promoted my lon- 
gevity to behold you. 

He was a man-of-war’s-man of the old Benbow school. He 
wore a short cue, which the wags of the mizzen-top called 
his “plug of pig-tail.” About his waist was a broad board- 
er’s belt, which he wore, he said, to brace his main-mast, 
meaning his backbone ; for at times he complained of rheu- 
matic twinges in the spine, consequent upon sleeping on deck, 
now and then, during the night-watches of upward of half a 
century. His sheath-knife was an antique — a sort of old- 
fashioned pruning-hook ; its handle — a sperm whale’s tooth — 
was carved all over with ships, cannon, and anchors. It was 
attached to his neck by a lanyard , elaborately worked into 
“rose-knots” and “Turks’ heads” by his own venerable fingers. 

Of all the crew, this Ushant was most beloved by my glo- 
rious Captain, Jack Chase, who one day pointed him out to 
me as the old man was slowly coming down the rigging from 
the fore-top. 

“ There, White- Jacket ! isn’t that old Chaucer’s shipman? 

“ ‘ A dagger hanging by a las hadde he, 

About Jiis nekke, under his arm adown ; 

The hote sommer hadde made his beard all brown. 

Hardy he is, and wise ; I undertake 

With many a tempest has his beard be shake.’ 

From the Canterbury Tales, White- Jacket ! and must not 
old Ushant have been living in Chaucer’s time, that Chau- 
cer could draw his portrait so well ?” 


CHAPTER LXXXVII. 


OLD USHANT AT THE GANGWAY. 

The rebel beards, headed by old Ushant’s, streaming like 
a Commodore’s bougee , now stood in silence at the mast. 

“ You knew the order !” said the Captain, eying them se- 
verely ; “ what does that hair on your chins ?” 

“ Sir,” said the Captain of the Forecastle, “ did old Ushant 
ever refuse doing his duty ? did he ever yet miss his muster ? 
But, sir, old Ushant’s beard is his own !” 

“ What’s that, sir ? Master-at-arms, put that man into 
the brig.” 

“Sir.” said the old man, respectfully, “ the three years for 
which I shipped are expired ; and though I am perhaps 
bound to work the ship home, yet, as matters are, I think 
my beard might be allowed me. It is but a few days, Cap- 
tain Claret.” 

“ Put him into the brig !” cried the Captain ; “ and now, 
you old rascals !” he added, turning round upon the rest, “ I 
give you fifteen minutes to have those beards taken off; if 
they then remain on your chins, I’ll flog you — every mother’s 
son of you — though you were all my own godfathers !” 

The band of beards went forward, summ '>ned their barbers, 
and their glorious pennants were no more. In obedience to 
orders, they then paraded themselves at the mast, and, ad- 
dressing the Captain, said, “ Sir, our muzzle-lashings are 
cast off!” 

Nor is it unworthy of being chronicled, that not a single 
sailor who complied with the general order but refused to 
sport the vile regulation-whiskers prescribed by the Navy 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


425 


Department. No ! like heroes they cried, “ Shave me clean ! 
I will not wear a hair, since I can not wear all !” 

On the morrow, after breakfast, Ushant was taken out of 
irons, and, with the master-at-arms on one side and an armed 
sentry on the other, was escorted along the gun-deck and up 
the ladder to the main-mast. There the Captain stood, firm 
as before. They must have guarded the old man thus to pre- 
vent his escape to the shore, something less than a thousand 
miles distant at the time. 

“ Well, sir, will you have that heard taken off? you have 
slept over it a whole night now ; what do you say ? I don’t 
want to flog an old man like you, Ushant !” 

“ My heard is my own, sir !” said the old man, lowly. 

“ Will you take it off?” 

“ It is mine, sir !” said the old man, tremulously. 

“ Rig the gratings !” roared the Captain. “ Master-at- 
arms, strip him ! quarter-masters, seize him up ! boatswain’s 
mates, do your duty !” 

While these executioners were employed, the Captain’s ex- 
citement had a little time to abate; and when, at last, old 
Ushant was tied up by the arms and legs, and his venerable 
hack was exposed — that back which had bowed at the guns 
of the frigate Constitution when she captured the Guerriere — 
the Captain seemed to relent. 

“ You are a very old man,” he said, “ and I am sorry to 
flog you ; but my orders must be obeyed. I will give you 
one more chance ; will you have that beard taken off?” 

“ Captain Claret,’? said the old man, turning round pain- 
fully in his bonds, -tf- you may flog me, if you will ; but, sir, in 
this one thing I can not obey you.” 

“ Lay on ! I’ll see his backbone !” roared the Captain in 
a sudden fury. 

“ By Heaven !” thrillingly whispered Jack Chase, who 
stood by, “ it’s only a halter ; I’ll strike him !” 

“ Better not,” said a top-mate ; “ it’s death, or worse pun- 
ishment, remember.” 


426 


WHITE-JACKET; OE, 


“ There goes the lash !” cried Jack. “ Look at the old 
man ! By G — d, I can’t stand it ! Let me go, men !” and 
with moist eyes Jack forced his way to one side. 

“ You, boatswain’s mate,” cried the Captain, “you are fa- 
voring that man ! Lay on soundly, sir, or I’ll have your own 
cat laid soundly on you.” 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, 
eleven, twelve lashes were laid on the back of that heroic old 
man. He only bowed over his head, and stood as the Dying 
Gladiator lies. 

“ Cut him down,” said the Captain. 

“ And now go and cut your own throat,” hoarsely whis- 
pered an old sheet-anchor-man, a mess-mate of Ushant’s. 

When the master-at-arms advanced with the prisoner’s 
shirt, Ushant waived him off with the dignified air of a Bra- 
him, saying, “ Do you think, master-at-arms, that I am hurt ? 
I will put on my own garment. I am never the worse for 
it, man ; and ’tis no dishonor when he who would dishonor 
you, only dishonors himself.” 

“ What says he ?” cried the Captain ; “ what says that 
tarry old philosopher with the smoking back ? Tell it to 
me, sir, if you dare ! Sentry, take that man back to the 
brig. Stop ! John Ushant, you have been Captain of the 
Forecastle ; I break you. And now you go into the brig, 
there to remain till you consent to have that beard taken off.” 

“ My beard is my own,” said the old man, quietly. “ Sen- 
try, I am ready.” 

And back he went into durance between the guns ; but 
after lying some four or five days in irons, an order came to 
remove them ; but he was still kept confined. 

Books were allowed him, and he spent much time in read- 
ing. But he also spent* many hours in braiding his beard, 
and interweaving with it strips of red bunting, as if he de- 
sired to dress out and adorn the thing which had triumphed 
over all opposition. 

He remained a prisoner till we arrived in America ; but 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


427 


the very moment he heard the chain rattle out of the hawse- 
hole, and the ship swing to her anchor, he started to his feet, 
dashed the sentry aside, and gaining the deck, exclaimed, 
“ At home, with my beard !”■ 

His term of service having some months previous expired, 
and the ship being now in harbor, he was beyond the reach 
of naval law, and the officers durst not molest him. But 
without unduly availing himself of these circumstances, the 
old man merely got his hag and hammock together, hired a 
boat, and throwing himself into the stern, was rowed ashore, 
amid the unsuppressible cheers of all hands. It was a glori- 
ous conquest over the Conqueror himself, as well worthy to 
be celebrated as the Battle of the Nile. 

Though,, as I afterward learned, Ushant was earnestly en- 
treated to put the case into some lawyer’s hands, he firmly 
declined, saying, “ I have won the battle, my friends, and I 
do not care for the prize-money.” But even had he complied 
with these entreaties, from precedents in similar cases, it is 
almost certain that not a sou’s worth of satisfaction would 
have been received. 

I know not in what frigate you sail now, old Ushant ; hut 
Heaven protect your storied old beard, in whatever Typhoon 
it may blow. And if ever it must be shorn, old man, may it 
fare like the royal heard of Henry I., of England, and he 
clipped by the right reverend hand of some Archbishop of 
Sees. 

As for Captain Claret, let it not he supposed that it is here 
sought to impale him before the world as a cruel, black-heart- 
ed man. Such he was not. Nor was he, upon the whole, 
regarded by his crew with any thing like the feelings which 
man-of-war’s-men sometimes cherish toward signally tyran 
nical commanders. In truth, the majority of the Neversink’s 
crew — in previous cruises habituated to flagrant misusage — 
deemed Captain Claret a lenient officer. In many things he 
certainly refrained from oppressing them. It has been relat- 
ed what privileges he accorded to the seamen respecting the 


428 


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free playing of checkers — a thing almost unheard of in most 
American men-of-war. In the matter of overseeing the men’s 
clothing, also, he was remarkably indulgent, compared with 
the conduct of other Navy Captains, who, by sumptuary regu 
lations, oblige their sailors to run up large bills with the Pur- 
ser for clothes. In a word, of whatever acts Captain Claret 
might have been guilty in the Neversink, perhaps none of them 
proceeded from any personal, organic hard-heartedness. What 
he was, the usages of the Navy had made him. Had he been 
a mere landsman — a merchant, say — he would no doubt have 
been considered a kind-hearted man. 

There may be some who shall read of this Bartholomew 
Massacre of beards who will yet marvel, perhaps, that the 
loss of a few hairs, more or less, should provoke such hostil- 
ity from the sailors, lash them into so frothing a rage ; indeed, 
come near breeding a mutiny. 

But these circumstances are not without precedent. Not 
to speak of the riots, attended with the loss of life, which once 
occurred in Madrid, in resistance to an arbitrary edict of the 
king’s, seeking to suppress the cloaks of the Cavaliers ; and, 
not to make mention of other instances that might be quoted, 
it needs only to point out the rage of the Saxons in the time 
of William the Conqueror, when that despot commanded the 
hair on their upper lips to be shaven off — the hereditary mus- 
taches which whole generations had sported. The multitude 
of the dispirited vanquished were obliged to acquiesce ; but 
many Saxon Franklins and gentlemen of spirit, choosing rath- 
er to lose their castles than their mustaches, voluntarily de- 
serted their fire-sides, and went into exile. All this is indig- 
nantly related by the stout Saxon friar, Matthew Paris, in his 
Historia Major , beginning with the Norman Conquest. 

And that our man-of-war’ s-men were right in desiring to 
perpetuate their beards, as martial appurtenances, must seem 
very plain, when it is considered that, as the beard is the token 
of manhood, so, in some shape or other, has it ever been held 
the true badge of a warrior. Bonaparte’s grenadiers were 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


429 


stout whiskerandoes ; and perhaps, in a charge, those fierce 
whiskers of theirs did as much to appall the foe as the sheen 
of their bayonets. Most all fighting creatures sport either 
whiskers or beards ; it seems a law of Dame Nature. Wit 
ness the boar, the tiger, the cougar, man, the leopard, the ram, 
the cut '- — all warriors, and all whiskerandoes. Whereas, the 
peace-loving tribes have mostly enameled chins. 




CHAPTER LXXXVIII. 


FLOGGING THROUGH THE FLEET. 

The flogging of an. old man like Ushant, most landsmen 
will probably regard with abhorrence. But though, from 
peculiar circumstances, his case occasioned a good deal of in- 
dignation among the people of the Neversink, yet, upon its 
own proper grounds, they did not denounce it. Man-of-war’s- 
men are so habituated to what landsmen would deem ex- 
cessive cruelties, that they are almost reconciled to inferior 
severities. 

And here, though the subject of punishment in the Navy 
has been canvassed in previous chapters, and though the thing 
is every way a most unpleasant Slid grievous one to enlarge 
upon, and though I painfully nerve myself to it while I write, 
a feeling of duty compels me to enter upon a branch of the 
subject till now undiscussed. I would not be like the man, 
who, seeing an outcast perishing by the road-side, turned about 
to his friend, saying, “ Let us cross the way; my soul so sick- 
ens at this sight, that I can not endure it.” 

There are certain enormities in this man-of-war world that 
often secure impunity by their very excessiveness. Some ig- 
norant people will refrain from permanently removing the 
cause of a deadly malaria, for fear of the temporary spread of 
its offensiveness'. Let us not be of such. The more repug- 
nant and repelling, the greater the evil. Leaving our women 
and children behind, let us freely enter this Golgotha. 

Years ago there was a punishment inflicted in the English, 
and I believe in the American Navy, called keel-hauling — a 
phrase still employed by man-of-war’ s-men when they would 
express some signal vengeance upon a personal foe. The prac- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


431 


tice still remains in the French national marine, though it is 
by no means resorted to so frequently as in times past. It 
consists of attaching tackles to the two extremities of the 
main-yard, and passing the rope under the ship’s bottom. To 
one end of this rope the culprit is secured; his own ship- 
mates are then made to run him up and down, first on this 
side, then on that — now scraping the ship’s hull under water 
— anon, hoisted, stunned and breathless, into the air. 

But though this barbarity is now abolished from the En- 
glish and American navies, there still remains another prac- 
tice which, if any thing, is even worse than keel-hauling. 
This remnant of the Middle Ages is known in the Navy as 
“ flogging through the fleet.” It is never inflicted except by 
authority of a court-martial upon some trespasser deemed 
guilty of a flagrant offence. Never, that I know of, has it 
been inflicted by an American man-of-war on the home sta- 
tion. The reason, probably, is, that the officers well know that 
such a spectacle would raise a mob in any American sea-port. 

By XLI. of the Articles of War, a court-martial shall not, 
“ for any one offence not capital,” inflict a punishment beyond 
one hundred lashes. In cases “ not capital” this law may be, 
and has been, quoted in judicial justification of the infliction 
of more than one hundred lashes. Indeed, it would cover a 
thousand. Thus : One act of a sailor may be construed into 
the commission of ten different transgressions, for each of 
which he may be legally condemned to a hundred lashes, to 
be inflicted without intermission. It will be perceived, that 
in any case deemed “capital,” a sailor, under the above 
Article, may legally be flogged to the death. 

But neither by the Articles of War, nor by any other enact- 
ment of Congress, is there any direct warrant for the extraor- 
dinary cruelty of the mode in which punishment is inflicted, 
in cases of flogging through the fleet. But as in numerous 
other instances, the incidental aggravations of this penalty are 
indirectly covered by other clauses in the Articles of War; 
one of which authorizes the authorities of a ship — in certain 


WHITE-JACKET; OK, 


432 


indefinite cases — to correct the guilty “ according to the usa- 
ges of the sea-servicer 

One of these “ usages” is the following : 

All hands being called “ to witness punishment” in the ship 
to which the culprit belongs, the sentence of the court-martial 
condemning him is read, when, with the usual solemnities, a 
portion of the punishment is inflicted. In order that it shall 
not lose in severity by the slightest exhaustion in the arm of 
the executioner, a fresh boatswain’s mate is called out at ev- 
ery dozen. 

As the leading idea is to strike terror into the beholders, 
the greatest number of lashes is inflicted on board the cul- 
prit’s own ship, in order to render him the more shocking 
spectacle to the crews of the other vessels. 

The first infliction being concluded, the culprit’s shirt is 
thrown over him ; he is put into a boat — the Rogue’s March 
being played meanwhile — and rowed to the next ship of the 
squadron. All hands of that ship are then called to man the 
rigging, and another portion of the punishment is inflicted by 
the boatswain’s mates of that ship. The bloody shirt is again 
thrown over the seaman ; and thus he is carried through the 
fleet or squadron till the whole sentence is inflicted. 

In other cases, the launch — the largest of the boats — is 
rigged with a platform (like a headsman’s scaffold), upon 
which halberds, something like those used in the English 
army, are erected. They consist of two stout poles, planted 
upright. Upon the platform stand a Lieutenant, a Surgeon, 
a Master-at-arms, and the executioners with their “ cats.” 
They are rowed through the fleet, stopping at each ship, till 
the whole sentence is inflicted, as before. 

In some cases, the attending surgeon has professionally in- 
terfered before the last lash has been given, alleging that 
immediate death must ensue if the remainder should be ad- 
ministered without a respite. But instead of humanely re- 
mitting the remaining lashes, in a case like this, the man is 
generally consigned to his cot for ten or twelve days ; and 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


433 


when the surgeon officially reports him capable of undergoing 
the rest of the sentence, it is forthwith inflicted. Shylock 
must have his pound of flesh. 

To say, that after being flogged through the fleet, the pris- 
oner’s back is sometimes puffed up like a pillow ; or to say 
that in other cases it looks as if burned black before a roast- 
ing fire ; or to say that you may track him through the squad- 
ron by the blood on the bulwarks of every ship, would only 
be saying what many seamen have seen. 

Several weeks, sometimes whole months, elapse before the 
sailor is sufficiently recovered to resume his duties. During 
the greater part of that interval he lies in the sick-bay, groan- 
ing out his days and nights ; and unless he has the hide and 
constitution of a rhinoceros, he never is the man he was be- 
fore, but, broken and shattered to the marrow of his bones, 
sinks into death before his time. Instances have occurred 
where he has expired the day after the punishment. No 
wonder that the Englishman, Dr. Granville — himself once a 
surgeon in the Navy — declares, in his work on Russia, that 
the barbarian “ knout” itself is not a greater torture to un- 
dergo than the Navy cat-o’-nine-tails. 

Some years ago a fire broke out near the powder magazine 
in an American national ship, one of a squadron at anchor in 
the Bay of Naples. The utmost alarm prevailed. A cry 
went fore and aft that the ship was about to blow up. One 
of the seamen sprang overboard in affright. At length the fire 
was got under, and the man was picked up. He was tried be- 
fore a court-martial, found guilty of cowardice, and condemn- 
ed to be flogged through the fleet. In due time the squadron 
made sail for Algiers, and in that harbor, once haunted by pi- 
rates, the punishment was inflicted — the Bay of Naples, though 
washing the shores of an absolute king, not being deemed a fit 
place for such an exhibition of American naval law. 

While the Neversink was in the Pacific, an American sailor, 
who had deposited a vote for General Harrison for President of 
the United States, was flogged through the fleet. 

T 


CHAPTER LXXXIX. 


THE SOCIAL STATE IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

But the floggings at the gangway and the floggings through 
the fleet, the stealings, highway robberies, swearings, gam- 
blings, blasphemings, thimble-riggings, smugglings, and tip- 
plings of a man-of-war, which throughout this narrative have 
been here and there sketched from the life, by no means com- 
prise the whole catalogue of evil. One single feature is full 
of significance. 

All large ships of war carry soldiers, called marines. In 
the Neversink there were something less than fifty, two thirds 
of whom were Irishmen. They were officered by a Lieuten- 
ant, an Orderly Sergeant, two Sergeants, and two Corporals, 
with a drummer and fifer. The custom, generally, is to have 
a marine to each gun ; which rule usually furnishes the scale 
for distributing the soldiers in vessels of different force. 

Our marines had no other than martial duty to perform ; 
excepting that, at sea, they stood watches like the sailors, and 
now and then lazily assisted in pulling the ropes. But they 
never put foot in rigging or hand in tar-bucket. 

On the quarter-bills, these men were stationed at none of 
the great guns ; on the station-bills, they had no posts at the 
ropes. What, then, were they for ? To serve their country 
in time of battle ? Let us see. When a ship is running into 
action, her marines generally lie flat on their faces behind the 
bulwarks (the sailors are sometimes ordered to do the same), 
and when the vessel is fairly engaged, they are usually drawn 
up in the ship’s waist — like a company reviewing in the Park. 
At close quarters, their muskets may pick off a seaman or two 
in the rigging, but at long-gun distance they must passively 


T HE WOULD I N A M A N-0 E-W A R. 


435 


stand in their ranks and he decimated at the enemy’s leisure. 
Only in one case in ten — that is, when their vessel is attempt- 
ed to be boarded by a large party, are these marines of any 
essential service as fighting-men ; with their bayonets they 
are then called upon to “ repel !” 

If comparatively so useless as soldiers, why have marines 
at all in the Navy ? Know, then, that what standing armies 
are to nations, what turnkeys are to jails, these marines are 
to the seamen in all large men-of-war. Their muskets are 
their keys. With those muskets they stand guard over the 
fresh water ; over the grog, when doled ; over the provisions, 
when being served out by the Master’s mate ; over the “ brig” 
or jail ; at the Commodore’s and Captain’s cabin doors ; and, 
in port, at both gangways and forecastle. 

Surely, the crowd of sailors, who besides having so many 
sea-officers over them, are thus additionally guarded by sol- 
diers, even when they quench their thirst — surely these man- 
of-war’ s-men must be desperadoes indeed ; or else the naval 
service must be so tyrannical that the worst is feared from 
their possible insubordination. Either reason holds good, or 
both, according to the character of the officers and crew. 

It must be evident that the man-of-war’s-man casts but an 
evil eye on a marine. To call a man a “horse-marine,” is, 
among seamen, one of the greatest terms of contempt. 

But the mutual contempt, and even hatred, subsisting be- 
tween these two bodies of men — both clinging to one keel, 
both lodged in one household — is held by most Navy officers 
as the height of the perfection of Navy discipline. It is re- 
garded as the button that caps the uttermost point on their 
main-mast. 

Thus they reason : Secure of this antagonism between the 
marine and the sailor, we can always rely upon it, that if the 
sailor mutinies, it needs no great incitement for the marine to 
thrust his bayonet through his heart ; if the marine revolts, 
the pike of the sailor is impatient to charge. Checks and bal- 
ances, blood against blood, that is the cry and the argument. 


436 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


What applies to the relation in which the marine and sailor 
stand toward each other — the mutual repulsion implied by a 
system of checks — will, in degree, apply to nearly the entire 
interior of a man-of-war’s discipline. The whole body of this 
discipline is emphatically a system of cruel cogs and wheels, 
systematically grinding up in one common hopper all that 
might minister to the moral well-being of the crew. 

It is the same with both officers and men. If a Captain 
have a grudge against a Lieutenant, or a Lieutenant against 
a midshipman, how easy to torture him by official treatment, 
which shall not lay open the superior officer to legal rebuke. 
And if a midshipman bears a grudge against a sailor, how 
easy for him, by cunning practices, born of a boyish spite, to 
have him degraded at the gangway. Through all the end- 
less ramifications of rank and station, in most men-of-war there 
runs a sinister vein of bitterness, not exceeded by the fire-side 
hatreds in a family of step-sons ashore. It were sickening to 
detail all the paltry irritabilities, jealousies, and cabals, the 
spiteful detractions and animosities, that lurk far down, and 
cling to the very kelson of the ship. It is unmanning to think 
of. The immutable ceremonies and iron etiquette of a man- 
of-war ; the spiked barriers separating the various grades of 
rank ; the delegated absolutism of authority on all hands ; the 
impossibility, on the part of the common seaman, of appeal 
from incidental abuses, and many more things that might 
be enumerated, all tend to beget in most armed ships a gen- 
eral social condition which is the precise reverse of what any 
Christian could desire. And though there are vessels, that in 
some measure furnish exceptions to this ; and though, in oth- 
er ships, the thing may be glazed over by a guarded, punctil 
ious exterior, almost completely hiding the truth from casual 
visitors, while the worst facts touching the common sailor are 
systematically kept in the background, yet it is certain that 
what has here been said of the domestic interior of a man-of- 
war will, in a greater or less degree, apply to most vessels in 
the Navy. It is not that the officers are so malevolent, nor, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


437 


altogether, that the man-of-war’s-man is so vicious. Some of 
these evils are unavoidably generated through the operation 
of the Naval code ; others are absolutely organic to a Navy 
establishment, and, like other organic evils, are incurable, ex- 
cept when they dissolve with the body they live in. 

These things are undoubtedly heightened by the close crib- 
bing and confinement of so many mortals in one oaken box on 
the sea. Like pears closely packed, the crowded crew mutu- 
ally decay through close contact, and every plague-spot is con- 
tagious. Still more, from this same close confinement — so 
far as it affects the common sailors — arise other evils, so dire- 
ful that they will hardly bear even so much as an allusion. 
What too many seamen are when ashore is very well known ; 
but what some of them become when completely cut off from 
shore indulgences can hardly be imagined by landsmen. The 
sins for which the cities of the plain were overthrown still lin- 
ger in some of these wooden- walled Gomorrahs of the deep. 
More than once complaints were made at the mast in the 
Neversink, from which the deck officer would turn away with 
loathing, refuse to hear them, and command the complainant 
out of his sight. There are evils in men-of-war, which, like 
the suppressed domestic drama of Horace Walpole, will nei- 
ther bear representing, nor reading, and will hardly bear think- 
ing of. The landsman who has neither read Walpole’s Mys- 
terious Mother , nor Sophocles’s (Edipus Tyrannus , nor the 
Roman story of Count Cend , dramatized by Shelley, let that 
landsman guardedly remain in his ignorance of even worse 
horrors than these, and forever abstain from seeking to draw 
aside this veil. 


CHAPTER XC. 


THE MANNING OF NAVIES. 

“ The gallows and the sea refuse nothing,” is a very old 
sea saying ; and, among all the wondrous prints of Hogarth, 
there is none remaining more true at the present day than 
that dramatic boat-scene, where after consorting with harlots 
and gambling on tomb-stones, the Idle Apprentice, with the 
villainous low forehead, is at last represented as being pushed 
off to sea, with a ship and a gallows in the distance. But 
Hogarth should have converted the ship’s masts themselves 
into Tyburn-trees, and thus, with the ocean for a background, 
closed the career of his hero. It would then have had all the 
dramatic force of the opera of Don Juan, who, after running 
his impious courses, is swept from our sight in a tornado of 
devils. 

For the sea is the true Tophet and bottomless pit of many 
workers of iniquity ; and, as the German mystics feign Ge- 
hennas within Gehennas, even so are men-of-war familiar- 
ly known among sailors as “Floating Hells.” And as the 
sea, according to old Fuller, is the stable of brute monsters, 
gliding hither and thither in unspeakable swarms, even so is 
it the home of many moral monsters, who fitly divide its em- 
pire with the snake, the shark, and the worm. 

Nor are sailors, and man-of-war’ s-men especially, at all- 
blind to a true sense of these things. “ Purser rigged and 
varish damned ,” is the sailor saying in the American Navy, 
when the tyro first mounts the lined frock and blue jacket, 
aptly manufactured for him in a State Prison ashore. 

No wonder, that lured by some crimp into a service so 
galling, and, perhaps, persecuted by a vindictive lieutenant, 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


439 


some repentant sailors have actually jumped into the sea to 
escape from their fate, or set themselves adrift on the wide 
ocean on the gratings, without compass or rudder. 

In one case, a young man, after being nearly cut into dog’s 
meat at the gangway, loaded his pockets with shot and walk- 
ed overboard. 

Some years ago, I was in a whaling ship lying in a harbor 
of the Pacific, with three French men-of-war alongside. One 
dark, moody night, a suppressed ciy was heard from the face 
of the waters, and, thinking it was some one drowning, a boat 
was lowered, when two French sailors were picked up, half 
dead from exhaustion, and nearly throttled by a bundle of 
their clothes tied fast to their shoulders. In this manner 
they had attempted their escape from their vessel. When 
the French officers came in pursuit, these sailors, rallying 
from their exhaustion, fought like tigers to resist being cap- 
tured. Though this story concerns a French armed ship, it 
is not the less applicable, in degree, to those of other nations. 

Mix with the men in an American armed ship ; mark how 
many foreigners there are, though it is against the law to en- 
list them. Nearly one third of the petty officers of the Nev- 
ersink were born east of the Atlantic. Why is this ? Be- 
cause the same principle that operates in hindering Ameri- 
cans from hiring themselves out as menial domestics also re- 
strains them, in a great measure, from voluntarily assuming 
a far worse servitude in the Navy. “ Sailors wanted for the 
Navy' ’ is a common announcement along the wharves of our 
sea-ports. They are always “ wanted." It may have been, 
in part, owing to this scarcity of man-of-war’ s-men, that not 
many years ago, black slaves were frequently to be found reg- 
ularly enlisted with the crew of an American frigate, their 
masters receiving their pay. This was in the teeth of a law 
of Congress expressly prohibiting slaves in the Navy. This 
law, indirectly, means black slaves, nothing being said con- 
cerning white ones. But in view of what John Randolph of 
Roanoke said about the frigate that carried him to Prussia, 


440 


WIJ ITivJACKET; OK, 


and in view of what most armed vessels actually are at pres- 
ent, the American Navy is not altogether an inappropriate 
place for hereditary bondmen. Still, the circumstance of 
their being found in it is of such a nature, that to some it 
may hardly appear credible. The incredulity of such persons, 
nevertheless, must yield to the fact, that on board of the 
United States ship Neversink, during the present cruise, there 
was a Virginian slave regularly shipped as a seaman, his 
owner receiving his wages. Guinea — such was his name 
among the crew — belonged to the Purser, who was a south- 
ern gentleman ; he was employed as his body servant. Never 
did I feel my condition as a man-of-war’s-man so keenly as 
when seeing this Guinea freely circulating about the decks in 
citizen’s clothes, and, through the influence of his master, aJ 
most entirely exempted from the disciplinary degradation of 
the Caucasian crew. Faring sumptuously in the ward-room ; 
sleek and round, his ebon face fairly polished with content ; 
ever gay and hilarious ; ever ready to laugh and joke, that 
African slave was actually envied by many of the seamen. 
There were times when I almost envied him myself. Lems- 
ford once envied him outright. “Ah, Guinea!” he sighed, 
“you have peaceful times ; you never opened the book I read 
in.” 

One morning, when all hands were called to witness pun- 
ishment, the Purser’s slave, as usual, was observed to be hur- 
rying down the ladders toward the ward-room, his face wear- 
ing that peculiar, pinched blueness, which, in the negro, an- 
swers to the paleness caused by nervous agitation in the white. 
“Where are you going, Guinea?” cried the deck-officer, a 
humorous gentleman, who sometimes diverted himself with 
the Purser’s slave, and well knew what answer he would now 
receive from him. “Where are you going, Guinea?” said 
this officer ; “ turn about ; don’t you hear the call, sir ?” 
“ ’ Scuse me, massa !” said the slave, with a low salutation-, 
“ I can’t ’tand it ; I can’t, indeed, massa !” and, so saying, he 
disappeared beyond the hatchway. He was the only person 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


441 


on board, except the hospital-steward and the invalids of the 
sick-bay, who was exempted from being present at the admin- 
istering of the scourge. Accustomed to light and easy duties 
from his birth, and so fortunate as to meet with none but gen- 
tle masters, Guinea, though a bondman, liable to be saddled 
with a mortgage, like a horse — Guinea, in India-rubber man- 
acles, enjoyed the liberties of the world. 

Though his body-and-soul proprietor, the Purser, never in 
any way individualized me while I served on board the frig- 
ate, and never did me a good office of any kind (it was hardly 
in his power), yet, from his pleasant, kind, indulgent manner 
toward his slave, I always imputed to him a generous heart, 
and cherished an involuntary friendliness toward him. Upon 
our arrival home, his treatment of Guinea, under circum- 
stances peculiarly calculated to stir up the resentment of a 
slave-owner, still more augmented my estimation of the Pur- 
ser’s good heart. 

Mention has been made of the number of foreigners in the 
American Navy ; but it is not in the American Navy alone 
that foreigners bear so large a proportion to the rest of the 
crew, though in no navy, perhaps, have they ever borne so 
large a proportion as in our own. According to an English es- 
timate, the foreigners serving in the King’s ships at one time 
amounted to one eighth of the entire body of seamen. How 
it is in the French Navy, I can not with certainty say ; but 
I have repeatedly sailed with English seamen who have 
served in it. 

One of the effects of the free introduction of foreigners into 
any Navy can not be sufficiently deplored. During the period 
I lived in the Neversink, I was repeatedly struck by the lack 
of patriotism in many of my shipmates. True, they were 
mostly foreigners who unblushingly avowed, that were it not 
for the difference of pay, they would as lief man the guns of 
an English ship as those of an American or Frenchman, 
Nevertheless, it was evident, that as for any high-toned pa- 
triotic feeling, there was comparatively very little — hardly 


442 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


any o^it — evinced by our sailors as a body. Upon reflection, 
this was not to be wondered at. From their roving career, 
and the sundering of all domestic ties, many sailors, all the 
world over, are like the “ Free Companions,” who some cen- 
turies ago wandered over Europe, ready to fight the battles 
of any prince who could purchase their swords. The only 
patriotism is born and nurtured in a stationary home, and 
upon an immovable hearth-stone ; but the man-of-war’s-man, 
though in his voyagings he weds the two Poles and brings 
both Indies together, yet, let him wander where he will, he 
carries his one only home along with him : that home is his 
hammock. “ Barn under a gun , and educated on the bow- 
sprit according to a phrase of his own, the man-of-war's- 
man rolls round the world like a billow, ready to mix with 
any sea, or be sucked down to death in the Maelstrom of 
any war. 

Yet more. The dread of the general discipline of a man- 
of-war ; the special obnoxiousness of the gangway ; the pro- 
tracted confinement on board ship, with so few “ liberty days 
and the pittance of pay (much less than what can always be 
had in the Merchant Service), these things contrive to deter 
from the navies of all countries by far the majority of their 
best seamen. This will be obvious, when the following sta- 
tistical facts, taken from Macpherson’s Annals of Commerce, 
are considered. At one period, upon the Peace Establish- 
ment, the number of men employed in the English Navy was 
25,000 ; at the same time, the English Merchant Service 
was employing 118,952. But while the necessities of a mer- 
chantman render it indispensable that the greater part of her 
crew be able seamen, the circumstances of a man-of-war ad- 
mit of her mustering a crowd of landsmen, soldiers, and boys 
in her service. By a statement of Captain Marry at’ s, in his 
pamphlet (A.D. 1822) “ On the Abolition of Impressment,” 
it appears that, at the close of the Bonaparte wars, a full third 
of all the crews of his Majesty’s fleets consisted of landsmen 
and boys. 


T H B VV O U LD I N A M A N-0 F-W A K, 


US 


Far from entering with enthusiasm into the King’s ships 
when their country were menaced, the great body of English 
seamen, appalled at the discipline of the Navy, adopted un- 
heard-of devices to escape its press-gangs. Some even hid 
themselves in caves, and lonely places inland, fearing to run 
the risk of seeking a berth in an outward-bound merchantman, 
that might have carried them beyond sea. In the true nar- 
rative of “John Nichol, Mariner,” published in 1822 by 
Blackwood in Edinburgh, and Cadell in London, and which 
every where bears the spontaneous impress of truth, the old 
sailor, in the most artless, touching, and almost uncomplain- 
ing manner, tells of his “ skulking like a thief” for whole 
years in the country round about Edinburgh, to avoid the 
press-gangs, prowling through the land like bandits and Burk- 
ers. At this time (Bonaparte’s wars), according to “ Steel’s 
List,” there were forty-five regular press-gang stations in Great 
Britain* 

In a later instance, a large body of British seamen solemnly 
assembled upon the eve of an anticipated war, and together 
determined, that in case of its breaking out, they would at 
once flee to America, to avoid being pressed into the service 
of their country — a service which degraded her own guardians 
at the gangway. 

At another time, long previous to this, according to an En- 
glish Navy officer, Lieutenant Tomlinson, three thousand 

* Besides this domestic kidnapping, British frigates, in friendly or 
neutral harbors, in some instances pressed into their service foreign 
sailors of all nations from the public wharves. In certain cases, where 
Americans were concerned, when “ 'protections'' 1 were found upon their 
persons, these were destroyed; and to prevent the American consul 
from claiming his sailor countrymen, the press-gang generally went on 
shore the night previous to the sailing of the frigate, so that the kid- 
napped seamen were far out to sea before they could be missed by 
tlieir friends. These things should be known ; for in case the English 
government again goes to war with its fleets, and should again resort to 
indiscriminate impressment to man them, it is well that both English- 
men and Americans, that all the world be prepared to put down an in- 
iquity outrageous and insulting to God and man. 


WHITE-JACKET; OIL 


-14 1 


seamen, impelled by the same motive, fled ashore in a panic 
from the colliers between Yarmouth Roads and the Nore. 
Elsewhere, he says, in speaking of some of the men on board 
the King’s ships, that “ they were most miserable objects.” 
This remark is perfectly corroborated by other testimony re- 
ferring to another period. In alluding to the lamented scarcity 
of good English seamen during the wars of 1808, &c., the 
author of a pamphlet on “ Naval Subjects” says, that all the 
best seamen, the steadiest and best-behaved men, generally 
succeeded in avoiding the impress. This writer was, or had 
been, himself a Captain in the British fleet. 

Now it may be easily imagined who are the men, and of 
what moral character they are, who, even at the present day, 
are willing to enlist as full-grown adults in a service so galling 
to all shore-manhood, as the Navy. Hence it comes that the 
skiflkers and scoundrels of all sorts in a man-of-war are chief- 
ly composed not of regular seamen, but of these “ dock-lopers” 
of landsmen, men who enter the Navy to draw their grog and 
murder their time in the notorious idleness of a frigate. But 
if so idle, why not reduce the number of a man-of-war’s crew, 
and reasonably keep employed the rest ? It can not be done. 
In the first place, the magnitude of most of these ships re- 
quires a large number of hands to brace the heavy yards, hoist 
the enormous top-sails, and weigh the ponderous anchor. And 
though the occasion for the employment of so many men 
comes but seldom, it is true, yet when that occasion does 
come — and come it may at any moment — this multitude of 
men are indispensable. 

But besides this, and to crown all, the batteries must he 
manned. There must be enough men to work all the guns 
at one time. And thus, in order to have a sufficiency of mor- 
tals at hand to “ sink, burn, and destroy aTnan-of-war — be- 
sides, through her vices, hopelessly depraving the volunteer 
landsmen and ordinary seamen of good habits, who occasion- 
ally enlist — must feed at the public cost a multitude of per- 
sons, who, if they did not find a home in the Navy, would 


T H ]•: WORLD IN A M A N-0 F-W A R. 


445 


probably fall on the parish, or linger out their days in a 
prison. 

Among others, these are the men into whose mouths Dib- 
din puts his patriotic verses, full of sea-chivalry and romance. 
With an exception in the last line, they might be sung with 
equal propriety by both English and American man-of-war’ s- 
men. 

“ As for me, in all weathers, all times, tides, and ends, 
Naught’s a trouble from duty that springs ; 

For my heart is my Poll’s, and my rhino’s my friends, 

And as for my life, it’s the king’s. 

To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave, 

Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer,” &c. 

I do not unite with a high critical authority in considering 
Dibdin’s ditties as “slang songs,” for most of them breathe 
the very poetry of the ocean. But it is remarkable that those 
songs — which would lead one to think that man-of-war’ s-men 
are the most care-free, contented, virtuous, and patriotic of 
mankind — were composed at a time when the English Navy 
was principally manned by felons and paupers, as mentioned 
in a former chapter. Still more, these songs are pervaded 
by a true Mohammedan sensualism ; a reckless acquiescence 
in fate, and an implicit, unquestioning, dog-like devotion to 
whoever may be lord and master. Dibdin was a man of 
genius ; but no wonder Dibdin was a government pensioner 
at £200 per annum. 

But notwithstanding the iniquities of a man-of-war, men 
are to be found in them, at times, so used to a hard life ; so 
drilled and disciplined to servitude, that, with an incompre- 
hensible philosophy, they seem cheerfully to resign themselves 
to their fate. They have plenty to eat ; spirits to drink ; 
clothing to keep them warm ; a hammock to sleep in ; to- 
bacco to chew ; a doctor to medicine them ; a parson to pray 
for them ; and, to a penniless castaway, must not all this 
seem as a luxurious Bill of Fare ? 

There was on board of the Neversink a fore-top-man by the 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


44f» 


name of Landless, who, though his back was cross-barred, and 
plaided with the ineffaceable scars of all the floggings accu- 
mulated by a reckless tar during a ten years’ service in the 
Navy, yet he perpetually wore a hilarious face, and at joke 
and repartee was a very Joe Miller. 

That man, though a sea-vagabond, was not created in vain. 
He enjoyed life with the zest of everlasting adolescence ; and, 
though cribbed in an oaken prison, with the turnkey sentries 
all round him, yet he paced the gun-deck as if it were broad 
as a prairie, and diversified in landscape as the hills and val- 
leys of the Tyrol. Nothing ever disconcerted him ; nothing 
could transmute his laugh into any thing like a sigh. Those 
glandular secretions, which in other captives sometimes go to 
the formation of tears, in him were expectorated from the 
mouth, tinged with the golden juice of a weed, wherewith he 
solaced and comforted his ignominious days. 

“Rum and tobacco!” said Landless, “what more does a 
sailor want ?” 

His favorite song was “ Dibdin’s True English Sailor” 
beginning, 

“Jack dances and sings, and is always content, 

In his vows to his lass he’ll ne’er fail her; 

His anchor’s atrip when his money’s all spent, 

And this is the life of a sailor.” 

But poor Landless danced quite as often at the gangway, 
under the lash, as in the sailor dance-houses ashore. 

Another of his songs, also set to the significant tune of The 
King , Gocl bless him ! mustered the following lines among 
many similar ones ; 

“ Oh, when safely landed in Boston or ’York, 

Oh how I will tipple and jig it ; 

And toss off my glass while my rhino holds out, 

In drinking success to our frigate !” 

During the many idle hours when our frigate was lying 
in harbor, this man was either merrily playing at checkers, 
or mending his clothes, or snoring like a trumpeter under the 


I 1 .1 K YV () R L I) IN A M A N-0 F-W A R. 


44? 


lee of the booms. When fast asleep, a national salute from 
our batteries could hardly move him. Whether ordered to 
the main-truck in a gale ; or rolled by the drum to the grog- 
tub ; or commanded to walk up to the gratings and be lashed, 
Landless always obeyed with the same invincible indiffer- 
ence. 

His advice to a young lad, who shipped with us at Valpa- 
raiso, embodies the pith and marrow of that philosophy which 
enables some man-of-war’s-men to wax jolly in the service. 

“ Shippy /” said Landless, taking the pale lad by his neck- 
erchief, as if he had him by the halter ; “ Shippy, I’ve seen 
sarvice with Uncle Sam — I’ve sailed in many Andrew Mil- 
lers. Now take my advice, and steer clear of all trouble. 
D’ye see, touch your tile whenever a swob (officer) speaks to 
you. And never mind how much they rope’s-end you, keep 
your red-rag belayed ; for you must know as how they don’t 
fancy sea-lawyers ; and when the sarving out of slops comes 
round, stand up to it stiffly ; it’s only an oh Lord ! or two, 
and a few oh my Gods ! — that’s all. And what then 1 Why, 
you sleeps it off in a few nights, and turns out at last all ready 
for your grog.” 

This Landless was a favorite with the officers, among whom 
he went by the name of “ Happy Jack.” And it is just such 
Happy Jacks as Landless that most sea-officers profess to ad- 
mire ; a fellow without shame, without a soul, so dead to the 
least dignity of manhood that he could hardly be called a man. 
Whereas, a seaman who exhibits traits of moral sensitiveness, 
whose demeanor shows some dignity within ; this is the man 
they, in many cases, instinctively dislike. The reason is, they 
feel such a man to be a continual reproach to them, as being 
mentally superior to their power. He has no business in a 
man-of-war ; they do not want such men. To them there is 
an insolence in his manly freedom, contempt in his very car- 
riage. He is unendurable, as an erect, lofty-minded African 
would be to some slave-driving planter. 

Let it not be supposed, however, that the remarks in this 


448 


WHITE-JACKET. 


and the preceding chapter apply to all men-of-war. There 
are some vessels blessed with patriarchal, intellectual Cap- 
tains, gentlemanly and brotherly officers, and docile and Chris- 
tianized crews. The peculiar usages of such vessels insensibly 
softens the tyrannical rigor of the Articles of War ; in them, 
scourging is unknown. To sail in such ships is hardly to re- 
alize that you live under the martial law, or that the evils 
above mentioned can any where exist. 

And Jack Chase, old Ushant, and several more fine tars 
that might be added, sufficiently attest, that in the Neversink 
at least, there was more than one noble man-of-war’ s-man who 
almost redeemed all the rest. 

Wherever, throughout this narrative, the American Navy, 
in any of its bearings, has formed the theme of a general dis- 
cussion, hardly one syllable of admiration for what is account- 
ed illustrious in its achievements has been permitted to escape 
me. The reason is this : I consider, that so far as what is 
called military renown is concerned, the American Navy needs 
no eulogist but History. It were superfluous for White- Jacket 
to tell the world what it knows already. The office imposed 
upon me is of another cast ; and, though I foresee and feel that 
it may subject me to the pillory in the hard thoughts of some 
men, yet, supported by what God has given me, I tranquilly 
abide the event, whatever it may prove. 


CHAPTER XCI. 


SMOKING-CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH SCENES ON THE GUN- 
DECK DRAWING NEAR HOME. 

There is a fable about a painter moved by Jove to the 
painting of the head of Medusa. Though the picture was 
true to the life, yet the poor artist sickened at the sight of 
what his forced pencil had drawn. Thus, borne through my 
task toward the end, my own soul now sinks at what I myself 
have portrayed. But let us forget past chapters, if we may, 
while we paint less repugnant things. 

Metropolitan gentlemen have their club ; provincial gos- 
sipers their news-room ; village quidnuncs their barber’s shop ; 
the Chinese their opium-houses ; American Indians their coun- 
cil-fire ; and even cannibals their Noqjona, or Talk-Stone, 
where they assemble at times to discuss the affairs of the day. 
Nor is there any government, however despotic, that ven- 
tures to deny to the least of its subjects the privilege of a so- 
ciable chat. Not the Thirty Tyrants even — the clubbed post- 
captains of old Athens — could stop the wagging tongues at the 
street-corners. For chat man must; and by our immortal 
Bill of Rights, that guarantees to us liberty of speech, chat 
we Yankees will, whether on board a frigate, or on board our 
own terra-firma plantations. 

In men-of-war, the Galley, or Cookery, on the gun-deck is 
the grand centre of gossip and news among the sailors. Here 
crowds assemble to chat away the half hour elapsing after 
every meal. The reason why this place and these hours are 
selected rather than others is this : in the neighborhood of the 
galley alone, and only after meals, is the man-of-war’s-man 
permitted to regale himself with a smoke. 

A sumptuary edict, truly, that deprived White- Jacket, for 


450 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


one, of a luxury to which he had long been attached. For 
how can the mystical motives, the capricious impulses of a 
luxurious smoker go and come at the beck of a Commodore’s 
command ? No ! when I smoke, be it because of my sover- 
eign good pleasure I choose so to do, though at so unseasona- 
ble an hour that I send round the town for a brasier of coals. 
What ! smoke by a sun-dial ? Smoke on compulsion ? Make 
a trade, a business, a vile recurring calling of smoking ? And, 
perhaps, when those sedative fumes have steeped you in the 
grandest of reveries, and, circle over circle, solemnly rises some 
immeasurable dome in your soul — far away, swelling and 
heaving into the vapor you raise — as if from one of Mozart’s 
grandest marches a temple were rising, like Venus from the 
sea — at such a time, to have your whole Parthenon tumbled 
about your ears by the knell of the ship’s bell announcing the 
expiration of the half hour for smoking ! Whip me, ye F uries ! 
toast me in saltpetre ! smite me, some thunder-bolt ! chargo 
upon me, endless squadrons of Mamalukes ! devour me, Fee- 
jees ! but preserve me from a tyranny like this. 

No ! though I smoked like an Indian summer ere I entered 
the Neversink, so abhorrent was this sumptuary law that I 
altogether abandoned the luxury rather than enslave it to a 
time and a place. Herein did I not right, Ancient and Hon- 
orable Old Guard of Smokers all round the world ? 

But there were others of the crew not so fastidious as my- 
self. After every meal, they hied to the galley and solaced 
their souls with a whiff. 

Now a bunch of cigars, all banded together, is a type and 
a symbol of the brotherly love between smokers. Likewise, 
for the time, in a community of pipes is a community of 
hearts. Nor was it an ill thing for the Indian Sachems to 
circulate their calumet tobacco-bowl — even as our own fore- 
fathers circulated their punch-bowl — in token of peace, chari- 
ty, and good-will, friendly feelings, and sympathizing souls. 
And this it was that made the gossipers of the galley so lov- 
ing a club, so long as the vapory bond united them. 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


451 


It was a pleasant sight to behold them. Grouped in the 
recesses between the guns, they chatted and laughed like rows 
of convivialists in the boxes of some vast dining-saloon. Take 
a Flemish kiCchen full of good fellows from Teniers ; add a 
fire-side group from Wilkie ; throw in a naval sketch from 
Cruickshank ; and then stick a short pipe into every mother’s 
son’s mouth, and you have the smoking scene at the galley of 
the Never sink. 

Not a few were politicians ; and, as there were some 
thoughts of a war with England at the time, their discussions 
waxed warm. 

“ I tell you what it is, shippies /” cried the old captain of 
gun No. 1 on the forecastle, “ if that ’ere President of ourn 
don’t luff up into the wind, by the Battle of the Nile ! he’ll 
be getting us into a grand fleet engagement afore the Yankee 
nation has rammed home her cartridges — let alone blowing 
the match !” 

“ Who talks of luffing ?” roared a roystering fore-top-man. 
“ Keep our Yankee nation large before the wind, say I, till 
you come plump on the enemy’s bows, and then board him in 
the smoke,” and with that, there came forth a mighty blast 
from his pipe. 

“ Who says the old man at the helm of the Yankee nation 
can’t steer his trick as well as George Washington himself?” 
cried a sheet-anchor-man. 

“But they say he’s a cold water customer, Bill,” cried 
another ; “ and sometimes o’ nights I somehow has a presen- 
tation that he’s goin’ to stop our grog.” 

“ D’ye hear there, fore and aft !” roared the boatswain’s 
mates at the gangway, “ all hands tumble up, and ’bout ship !” 

“ That’s the talk !” cried the captain of gun No. 1, as, in 
obedience to the summons, all hands dropped their pipes and 
crowded toward the ladders, “ and that’s what the President 
must do — go in stays, my lads, and put the Yankee nation on 
the other tack.” 

But these political discussions by no means supplied the 


452 


W Li I T E-.I A 0 K E T ; O R 


staple of conversation for the gossiping smokers of the galley. 
The interior affairs of, the frigate itself formed their principal 
theme. Rumors about the private life of the Commodore in 
his cabin ; about the Captain, in his ; about the various offi- 
cers in the Ward-room ; about the reefers in the steerage, and 
their madcap frolickings, and about a thousand other matters 
touching the crew themselves ; all these — forming the eter- 
nally shifting, domestic by-play of a man-of-war — proved in- 
exhaustible topics for our quidnuncs. 

The animation of these scenes was very much heightened 
as we drew nearer and nearer our port ; it rose to a climax 
when the frigate was reported to be only twenty-four hours’ 
sail from the land. What they should do when they landed ; 
how they should invest their wages ; what they should eat ; 
what they should drink ; and what lass they should marry — 
these were the topics which absorbed them. 

“ Sink the sea !” cried a forecastle man. “ Once more 
ashore, and you’ll never again catch old Boombolt afloat. I 
mean to settle down in a sail-loft.” 

“ Cable-tier pinches blister all tarpaulin hats!” cried a 
young after-guard’ s-man ; “ I mean to go back to the counter.” 

“ Shipmates ! take me by the arms, and swab up the lee- 
scuppers with me, but I mean to steer a clam-cart before I go 
again to a ship’s wheel. Let the Navy go by the board — to 
sea again, I won’t !” 

“ Start my soul-bolts, maties, if any more Blue Peters and 
sailing signals fly at my fore !” cried the Captain of the Head- 
“My wages will buy a wheelbarrow, if nothing more.” 

“ I have taken my last dose of salts,” said the Captain of 
the Waist, “ and after this mean to stick to fresh water. Ay, 
maties, ten of us Waisters mean to club together and buy a 
serving-mallet boat, d’ye see ; and if ever we drown, it will 
be in the ‘ raging canal !’ Blast the sea, shipmates ! say I.” 

“ Profane not the holy element !” said Lemsford, the poet 
of the gun-deck, leaning over a cannon. “ Know ye not, man- 
of-war’s-men f that by the Parthian magi the ocean was held 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


453 


sacred ? Did not Tiridates, the Eastern monarch, take an 
immense land circuit to avoid desecrating the Mediterranean, 
in order to reach his imperial master, Nero, and do homage 
for his crown ?” 

“ What lingo is that ?” cried the Captain of the Waist. 

“ Who’s Commodore Tiddery-eye ?” cried the forecastle-man. 

“ Hear me out,” resumed Lemsford. “ Like Tiridates; I 
venerate the sea, and venerate it so highly, shipmates, that 
evermore I shall abstain from crossing it. In that sense, 
Captain of the Waist, I echo your cry.” 

It was, indeed, a remarkable fact, that nine men out of ev- 
ery ten of the Neversink’s crew had formed some plan or other 
to keep themselves ashore for life, or, at least, on fresh water, 
after the expiration of the present cruise. With all the ex- 
periences of that cruise accumulated in one intense recollection 
of a moment ; with the smell of tar in their nostrils ; out of 
sight of land ; with a stout ship under foot, and snuffing the 
ocean air ; with all the things of the sea surrounding them ; 
in their cool, sober moments of reflection ; in the silence and 
solitude of the deep, during the long night-watches, when all 
their holy home associations were thronging round their 
hearts ; in the spontaneous piety and devotion of the last hours 
of so long a voyage ; in the fullness and the frankness of their 
souls ; when there was naught to jar the well-poised equilib- 
rium of their judgment — under all these circumstances, at 
least nine tenths of a crew of five hundred man-of-war’ s-men 
resolved forever to turn their hacks on the sea. But do men 
ever hate the thing they love ? Do men forswear the hearth 
and the homestead ? What, then, must the Navy be ? 

But, alas for the man-of-war’s-man, who, though he may 
take a Hannibal oath against the service ; yet, cruise after 
cruise, and after forswearing it again and again, he is driven 
back to the spirit-tub and the gun-deck by his old hereditary 
foe, the ever-devilish god of grog. 

On this point, let some of the crew of the Neversink be 
called to the stand. 


454 


W H I T E-J ACKET. 


You, Captain of the Waist ! and you, seamen of the fore- 
top ! and you, After-guard’s-men and others ! how came you 
here at the guns of the North Carolina, after registering your 
solemn vows at the galley of the Neversink ? 

They all hang their heads. I know the cause ; poor fel- 
lows ! perjure yourselves not again ; swear not at all hereafter. 

•Ay, these very tars — the foremost in denouncing the Navy ; 
who had bound themselves by the most tremendous oaths — 
these very men, not three days after getting ashore, were roll- 
ing round the streets in penniless drunkenness ; and next day 
many of them were to be found on board of the guardo or re- 
ceiving-ship. Thus, in part, is the Navy manned. 

But what was still more surprising, and tended to impart 
a new and strange insight into the character of sailors, and 
overthrow some long-established ideas concerning them as a 
class, was this : numbers of men who, during the cruise, had 
passed for exceedingly prudent, nay, parsimonious persons, 
who would even refuse you a patch, or a needleful of thread, 
and, from their stinginess, procured the name of Ravelings — 
no sooner were these men fairly adrift in harbor, and under 
the influence of frequent quaffings, than their three-years’- 
earned wages flew right and left ; they summoned whole 
boarding-houses of sailors to the bar, and treated them over 
and over again. Fine fellows ! generous-hearted tars ! See- 
ing this sight, I thought to myself, Well, these generous-heart- 
ed tars on shore were the greatest curmudgeons afloat ! it’s 
the bottle that’s generous, not they ! Yet the popular con- 
ceit concerning a sailor is derived from his behavior ashore ; 
whereas, ashore he is no longer a sailor, but a landsman for 
the time. A man-of-war’ s-man is only a man-of-war’ s-man at 
sea ; and the sea is the place to learn what he is. But we 
have seen that a man-of-war is but this old-fashioned world 
of ours afloat, full of all manner of characters — full of strange 
contradictions ; and though boasting some fine fellows here 
and there, yet, upon the whole, charged to the combings of 
her hatchways with the spirit of Belial and all unrighteousness. 


CHAPTER XCII. 


THE LAST OF THE JACKET. 

Already has White- Jacket chronicled the mishaps and in- 
conveniences, troubles and tribulations of all sorts brought 
upon him by that unfortunate but indispensable garment of 
his. But now it befalls him to record how this jacket, for the 
second and last time, came near proving his shroud. 

Of a pleasant midnight, our good frigate, now somewhere 
off the Capes of Virginia, was running on bravely, when the 
breeze, gradually dying, left us slowly gliding toward our still 
invisible port. 

Headed by Jack Chase, the quarter-watch were reclining 
in the top, talking about the shore delights into which they 
intended to plunge, while our captain often broke in with al- 
lusions to similar conversations when he was on board the 
English line-of-battle ship, the Asia, drawing nigh to Ports- 
mouth, in England, after the battle of Navarino. 

Suddenly an order was given to set the main-top-gallant- 
stun’-sail, and the halyards not being rove, Jack Chase as- 
signed to me that duty. Now this reeving of the halyards 
of a main-top-gallant-stun’-sail is a business that eminently 
demands sharpsightedness, skill, and celerity. 

Consider that the end of a line, some two hundred feet 
long, is to be carried aloft, in your teeth, if you please, and 
dragged far out on the giddiest of yards, and after being 
wormed and twisted about through all sorts of intricacies — 
turning abrupt corners at the abruptest of angles — is to be 
dropped, clear of all obstructions, in a straight plum-line right 
down to the deck. In the course of this business, there is a 
multitude of sheeve-holes and blocks, through which you must 


45(j 


W H I T H-J ACKET; OR, 


pass it ; often the rope is a very tight fit, so as to make it like 
threading a fine cambric needle with rather coarse thread. 
Indeed, it is a thing only deftly to be done, even by day. 
Judge, then, what it must be to be threading cambric needles 
by night, and at sea, upward of a hundred feet aloft in the air. 

With the end of the line in one hand, I was mounting the 
top-mast shrouds, when our Captain of the Top told me that 
I had better off jacket ; but though it was not a very cold 
night, I had been reclining so long in the top, that I had be- 
come somewhat chilly, so I thought best not to comply with 
the hint. 

Having reeved the line through all the inferior blocks, I 
went out with it to the end of the weather-top-gallant-yard- 
arm, and was in the act of leaning over and passing it through 
the suspended jewel-block there, when the ship gave a plunge 
in the sudden swells of the calm sea, and pitching me still 
further over the yard, threw the heavy skirts of my jacket 
right over my head, completely muffling me. Somehow I 
thought it was the sail that had flapped, and, under that im- 
pression, threw up my hands to drag it from my head, relying 
upon the sail itself to support me meanwhile. Just then the 
ship gave another sudden jerk, and, head foremost, I pitched 
from the yard. I knew where I was, from the rush of the air 
by my ears, but all else w r as a nightmare. A bloody film was 
before my eyes, through which, ghost-like, passed and repassed 
my father, mother, and sisters. An unutterable nausea op- 
pressed me ; I was conscious of gasping ; there seemed no 
breath in my body. It was over one hundred feet that I fell 
— down, down, with lungs collapsed as in death. Ten thou- 
sand pounds of shot seemed tied to my head, as the irresistible 
law of gravitation dragged me, head foremost and straight as 
a die, toward the infallible centre of this terraqueous globe. 
All I had seen, and read, and heard, and all I had thought 
and felt in my life, seemed intensified in one fixed idea in my 
soul. But dense as this idea was, it was made up of atoms. 
Having fallen from the projecting yard-arm end, I was con- 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


457 


scious of a collected satisfaction in feeling, that I should not be 
dashed on the deck, but would sink into the speechless pro- 
found of the sea. 

With the bloody, blind film before my eyes, there was a still 
stranger hum in my head, as if a hornet were there ; and I 
thought to myself, Great God ! this is Death ! Yet these 
thoughts were unmixed with alarm. Like frost-work that 
flashes and shifts its scared hues in the sun, all my braided, 
blended emotions were in themselves icy cold and calm. 

So protracted did my fall seem, that I can even now recall 
the feeling of wondering how much longer it would be, ere all 
was over and I struck. Time seemed to stand still, and all 
the worlds seemed poised on their poles, as I fell, soul-becalmed, 
through the eddying whirl and swirl of the Maelstrom air. 

At first, as I have said, I must have been precipitated head 
foremost ; but I was conscious, at length, of a swift, flinging 
motion of my limbs, which involuntarily threw themselves out, 
so that at last I must have fallen in a heap. This is more 
likely, from the circumstance, that when I struck the sea, I 
felt as if some one had smote me slantingly across the shoul- 
der and along part of my right side. 

As I gushed into the sea, a thunder-boom sounded in my 
ear ; my soul seemed flying from my mouth. The feeling of 
death flooded over me with the billows. The blow from the 
sea must have turned me, so that I sank almost feet foremost 
through a soft, seething, foamy lull. Some current seemed 
hurrying me away ; in a trance I yielded, and sank deeper 
down with a glide. Purple and pathless was the deep calm 
now around me, flecked by summer lightnings in an azure 
afar. The horrible nausea was gone ; the bloody, blind film 
turned a pale green ; I wondered whether I was yet dead, or 
still dying. But of a sudden some fashionless form brushed 
my side — some inert, coiled fish of the sea; the thrill of being 
alive again tingled in my nerves, and the strong shunning of 
death shocked me through. 

For one instant an agonizing revulsion came over me as I 

U 


458 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


found myself utterly sinking. Next moment the force of my 
fall was expended ; and there I hung, vibrating in the mid- 
deep. What wild sounds then rang in my ear ! One was a 
soft moaning, as of low waves on the beach ; the other wild 
and heartlessly jubilant, as of the sea in the height of a tem- 
pest. Oh soul ! thou then heardest life and death : as he 
who stands upon the Corinthian shore hears both the Ionian 
and the -dEgean waves. The life-and-death poise soon passed ; 
and then I found myself slowly ascending, and caught a dim 
glimmering of light. 

Quicker and quicker I mounted ; till at last I bounded up 
like a buoy, and my whole head was bathed in the blessed 
air. 

I had fallen in a line with the main-mast ; I now found 
myself nearly abreast of the mizzen-mast, the frigate slowly 
gliding by like a black world in the water. Her vast hull 
loomed out of the night, showing hundreds of seamen in the 
hammock-nettings, some tossing over ropes, others madly fling- 
ing overboard the hammocks ; but I was too far out from 
them immediately to reach what they threw. I essayed to 
swim toward the ship ; but instantly I was conscious of a 
feeling like being pinioned in a feather-bed, and, moving my 
hands, felt my jacket puffed out above my tight girdle with 
water. I strove to tear it off ; but it was looped together 
here and there, and the strings were not then to be sundered 
by hand. I whipped out my knife, that was tucked at my 
belt, and ripped my jacket straight up and down, as if I were 
ripping open myself. With a violent struggle I then burst 
out of it, and was free. Heavily soaked, it slowly sank be- 
fore my eyes. 

Sink ! sink ! oh shroud ! thought I ; sink forever ! accursed 
jacket that thou art ! 

“ See that white shark !” cried a horrified voice from the 
taffrail ; “ he’ll have that man down his hatchway ! Quick ! 
the grains ! the grains !” 

The next instant that barbed bunch of harpoons pierced 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR 


459 


through and through the unfortunate jacket, and swiftly sped 
down with it out of sight. 

Being now astern of the frigate, I struck out boldly toward 
the elevated pole of one of the life-buoys which had been cut 
away. Soon after, one of the cutters picked me up. As they 
dragged me out of the water into the air, the sudden transi- 
tion of elements made my every limb feel like lead, and I 
helplessly sunk into the bottom of the boat. 

Ten minutes after, I was safe on board, and, springing aloft, 
was ordered to reeve anew the stun’ -sail-halyards, which, slip- 
ping through the blocks when I had let go the end, had un- 
rove and fallen to the deck. 

The sail was soon set ; and, as if purposely to salute it, a 
gentle breeze soon came, and the Neversink once more glided 
over the water, a soft ripple at her bows, and leaving a tran- 
quil wake behind. 


CHAPTER XCIII. 


CABLE AND ANCHOR ALL CLEAR. 

And now that the white jacket has sunk to the bottom of 
the sea, and the blessed Capes of Virginia are believed to be 
broad on our bow — though still out of sight — our five hund- 
red souls are fondly dreaming of home, and the iron throats 
of the guns round the galley re-echo with their songs and hur- 
ras — what more remains ? 

Shall I tell what conflicting and almost crazy surmisings 
prevailed concerning the precise harbor for which we were 
bound ? For, according to rumor, our Commodore had re- 
ceived sealed orders touching that matter, which were not to 
be broken open till we gained a precise latitude of the coast. 
Shall I tell how, at last, all this uncertainty departed, and 
many a foolish prophecy was proved false, when our no- 
ble frigate — her longest pennant at her main — wound her 
stately way into the innermost harbor of Norfolk, like a plumed 
Spanish Grandee threading the corridors of the Escurial to- 
ward the throne-room within ? Shall I tell how we kneeled 
upon the holy soil ? How I begged a blessing of old Ushant, 
and one precious hair of his beard for a keepsake ? How 
Lemsford, the gun-deck bard, offered up a devout ode as a 
prayer of thanksgiving ? How saturnine Nord, the magnifico 
in disguise, refusing all companionship, stalked off into the 
woods, like the ghost of an old Calif of Bagdad? How I 
swayed and swung the hearty hand of Jack Chase, and nip- 
ped it to mine with a Carrick bend ; yea, and kissed that no- 
ble hand of my liege lord and captain of my top, my sea-tutor 
and sire ? 

Shall I tell how the grand Commodore and Captain drove 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


461 


off from the pier-nead ? How the Lieutenants, in undress, 
sat down to their last dinner in the ward-room, and the Cham- 
pagne, packed in ice, spirted and sparkled like the Hot Springs 
out of a snow-drift in Iceland ? How the Chaplain went off 
in his cassock, without bidding the people adieu ? How shrunk- 
en Cuticle, the Surgeon, stalked over the side, the wired skel- 
eton carried in his wake by his cot-boy ? How the Lieuten- 
ant of Marines sheathed his sword on the poop, and, calling 
for wax and a taper, sealed the end of the scabbard with his 
family crest and motto — Denique Codum ? How the Pur- 
ser in due time mustered his money-bags, and paid us all off 
on the quarter-deck — good and bad, sick and well, all receiving 
their wages ; though, truth to tell, some reckless, improvident 
seamen, who had lived too fast during the cruise, had little or 
nothing now standing on the credit side of their Purser’s ac- 
counts ? 

Shall I tell of the Retreat of the Five Hundred inland ; 
not, alas ! in battle-array, as at quarters, but scattered broad- 
cast over the land ? 

Shall I tell how the Neversink was at last stripped of spars, 
shrouds, and sails — had her guns hoisted out — her powder- 
magazine, shot-lockers, and armories discharged — till not one 
vestige of a fighting thing was left in her, from furthest stem 
to uttermost stern ? 

No ! let all this go by ; for our anchor still hangs from our 
bows, though its eager flukes dip their points in the impatient 
waves. Let us leave the ship on the sea — still with the land 
out of sight — still with brooding darkness on the face of the 
deep. I love an indefinite, infinite background — a vast, heav- 
ing, rolling, mysterious rear ! 

It is night. The meagre moon is in her last quarter — that 
betokens the end of a cruise that is passing. But the stars 
look forth in their everlasting brightness — and that is the ever- 
lasting, glorious Future, forever beyond us. 

We main-top-men are all aloft in the top ; and round our 
mast we circle, a brother-band, hand in hand, all spliced to- 


462 


WHITE-JACKET. 


gether. We have reefed the last top-sail ; trained the last 
gun ; blown the last match ; bowed to the last blast ; been 
tranced in the last calm. We have mustered our last round 
the capstan ; been rolled to grog the last time ; for the last 
time swung in our hammocks ; for the last time turned out 
at the sea-gull call of the watch. We have seen our last 
man scourged at the gangway ; our last man gasp out the 
ghost in the stifling Sick-bay ; our last man tossed to the 
sharks. Our last death-denouncing Article of War has been 
read ; and far inland, in that blessed clime whitherward our 
frigate now glides, the last wrong in our frigate will be remem- 
bered no more ; when down from our main-mast comes our 
Commodore’s pennant, when down sinks its shooting stars 
from the sky. 

“ By the mark, nine !” sings the hoary old leadsman, in the 
chains. And thus, the mid- world Equator passed, our frigate 
strikes soundings at last. 

Hand in hand we top-mates stand, rocked in our Pisgah 
top. And over the starry waves, and broad out into the 
blandly blue and boundless night, spiced with strange sweets 
from the long-sought land — the whole long cruise predestina- 
ted ours, though often in tempest-time we almost refused to 
believe in that far-distant shore — straight out into that fra- 
grant night, ever-noble Jack Chase, matchless and unmatch- 
able Jack Chase stretches forth his bannered hand, and, point- 
ing shoreward, cries : “For the last time, hear Camoens, 
boys !” 

“ How calm the waves, how mild the fcalmy gale ! 

The Halcyons call, ye Lusians spread the sail ! 

Appeased, old Ocean now shall rage no more ; 

Haste, point our bowsprit for yon shadowy shore. 

Soon shall the transports of your natal soil 

O’erwhelm in bounding joy the thoughts of every toil.” 


THE END. 


As a man-of-war that sails through the sea, so this earth 
that sails through the air. We mortals are all on hoard a 
fast-sailing, never-sinking world-frigate, of which God was the 
shipwright ; and she is hut one craft in a Milky- Way fleet, 
of which God is the Lord High Admiral. The port we sail 
from is forever astern. And though far out of sight of land, 
for ages and ages we continue to sail with sealed orders, and 
our last destination remains a secret to ourselves and our offi- 
cers ; yet our final haven was predestinated ere we slipped 
from the stocks at Creation. 

Thus sailing with sealed orders, we ourselves are the re- 
positories of the secret packet, whose mysterious contents we 
long to learn. There are no mysteries out of ourselves. But 
let us not give ear to the superstitious, gun-deck gossip about 
whither we may he gliding, for, as yet, not a soul on board 
of us knows — not even the Commodore himself; assuredly 
not the Chaplain ; even our Professor’s scientific surmisings 
are vain. On that point, the smallest cabin-boy is as wise 
as the Captain. And believe not the hypochondriac dwell- 
ers below hatches, who will tell you, with a sneer, that our 
world-frigate is hound to no final harbor whatever ; that our 
voyage will prove an endless circumnavigation of space. Not 
so. For how can this world-frigate prove our eventual abid- 
ing place, when, upon our first embarkation, as infants in 
arms, her violent rolling — in after life unperceived — makes 
every soul of us sea-sick ? Does not this show, too, that the 
very air we here inhale is uncongenial, and only becomes en- 
durable at last through gradual habituation, and that some 


464 


WHITE-JACKET; OR, 


blessed, placid haven, however remote at present, must be in 
store for us all ? 

Glance fore and aft our flush decks. What a swarming 
crew ! All told, they muster hard upon eight hundred mill- 
ions of souls. Over these we have authoritative Lieutenants, 
a sword-belted Officer of Marines, a Chaplain, a Professor, a 
Purser, a Doctor, a Cook, a Master-at-arms. 

Oppressed by illiberal laws, and partly oppressed by them- 
selves, many of our people are wicked, unhappy, inefficient. 
We have skulkers and idlers all round, and brow-beaten 
waisters, who, for a pittance, do our craft’s shabby work. 
Nevertheless, among our people ye have gallant fore, main, 
and mizen top-men aloft, who, well treated or ill, still trim 
our craft to the blast. 

We have a brig for trespassers ; a bar by our main-mast, 
at which they are arraigned ; a cat-o’-nine-tails and a gang- 
way, to degrade them in their own eyes and in ours. These 
are not always employed to convert Sin to Virtue, but to di- 
vide them, and protect Virtue and legalized Sin from unlegal- 
ized Vice. 

We have a Sick-bay for the smitten and helpless, whither 
we hurry them out of sight, and, however they may groan be- 
neath hatches, we hear little of their tribulations on deck ; we 
still sport our gay streamer aloft. Outwardly regarded, our 
craft is a lie ; for all that is outwardly seen of it is the clean- 
swept deck, and oft-painted planks comprised above the water- 
line ; whereas, the vast mass of our fabric, with all its store- 
rooms of secrets, forever slides along far under the surface. 

When a shipmate dies, straightway we sew him up, and 
overboard he goes ; our world-frigate rushes by, and never 
more do we behold him again ; though, sooner or later, the 
everlasting under-tow sweeps him toward our own destination. 

We have both a quarter-deck to our craft and a gun-deck ; 
subterranean shot-lockers and gunpowder magazines ; and the 
Articles of War form our domineering code. 

Oh, shipmates and world-mates, all round ! we the people 


THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 


465 


suffer many abuses. Our gun-deck is full of complaints. In 
vain from Lieutenants do we appeal to the Captain ; in vain 
— while on board our world-frigate — to the indefinite Navy 
Commissioners, so far out of sight aloft. Yet the worst of our 
evils we blindly inflict upon ourselves ; our officers can not re- 
move them, even if they would. From the last ills no being 
can save another ; therein each man must be his own saviour. 
For the rest, whatever befall us, let us never train our mur- 
derous guns inboard ; let us not mutiny with bloody pikes in 
our hands. Our Lord High Admiral will yet interpose ; and 
though long ages should elapse, and leave our wrongs unre- 
dressed, yet, shipmates and world-mates ! let us never forget, 
that, 

Whoever afflict us, whatever surround, 

Life is a voyage that’s homeward-bound ! 


THE END. 








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